A Mild Distraction (Open RP)

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This topic contains 24 replies, has 4 voices, and was last updated by  Squirrel! 3 months, 3 weeks ago.

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  • #42214

    Shelby Miller
    Participant

    The world seemed to cheerily weep under the radiant rays of the sun. The frozen ground began to thaw in small rivers. Ice and snow dissipated, leaving ponds and lakes of water in its path. The icy remnants upon tree trickled down in streams and rain drops of nature’s design. Those who were foolish in their step under these trees could welcome a surprise shower at any time. Truly Spring did have its charming sense of humor.

    Upon the drenched Midworld town of Freehold, sat the all too familiar wild elf, bathing in the sweet morning rays of the sun. Her hair seemed as blonde and innocent as ever, truly a difference from the shade of crimson it had been before. The warrior of the unsmiling religion had basked in the blood and glory and perhaps celebrated this year’s Cath’Muirtheme a little too proudly.

    Two axes riddled and worn with age sat by her side as she sat perched on the Soul Tower watchtower. The twin tools of death were treasured items from her late brother Sloane who met a grizzly fate by Jotunbrud Chainers’ hands. Each coated with a fresh coat of red that smelled of iron. The Gohrrim has surely been busy before sunrise in the Hinterlands. A simple distraction to take her mind off all the poor news they received merely days ago. A distraction from the deaths that occurred. A distraction from the failure of their plans.

    Delphie Cu Gohrrim~ Dyed Woman ~ Hand of the Enovy of Fir’ Bolg

    Bitch of the Bolg

    #42216

    Nicholas Gritsipis
    Participant

    “Almost makes you forget that it could all just end in a second, eh?”
    The green coated drifter stepped onto the precipice of the tower. He held a small gold coin, nicked on one side and pristine on the other. He sat down a few feet from her and pocketed it, flourishing it between his fingers as he slid it in.
    “Spring rebirth just as another immortal turns to dust. Ironic it was Portia, what with her being known as mother and all.”

    Noticably, his coat was now bearing the watchful symbol of Fir’bolg on its back, and he was no longer wearing a scarf.  His face showed slight pleasure in the warmth, though in reality he prefered the cold. While in battle, knowing its only your adrenaline keeping you from freezing, you tend to fight harder.

    “Blood on your axes, who’s the victim? Straggling demon? Bandit? Some poor sod who thought he might get away with smalltalk?”

    I am The Jagged Shadow, The Ravens Mist, The Blade Dancer, The Spell Sunderer, and the wrecker of your shit.

    #42222

    Shelby Miller
    Participant

    The sound of the newcomer hadn’t startled the blood axe wielding elf. The familiar voice instead had her head towards the man of the Bolg, her blonde hair surging in the light wind like a ship’s sail as she rolled her eyes at his comment. Despite the clear distaste for the wild card bogger Perth, she moved over slightly to allow him to sit upon the lookout. Her feet dangled of the wood as she gazed back towards the path of the beach. The peaceful moment now seemed to be in the past

    “Hardly.” The elven warrior spoke, her accent cutting through the breeze air like razors. Delphie Cu Gohrrim wasn’t one that preferred the company of many, however the Perth was perhaps one of the last people she wanted to be enjoying the warmer weather with. There were many things she could point out on the young bogger that she disliked but perhaps what she hated most was the stubbornness. There was only room for one stubborn bitch in the Bolg and that was certainly her. The blonde pushed a strand of her untamed hair behind her ear as she sighed at his question.

    “Could be. Why, you want to be next?” Delphie responded back, sassy as always with a slight glare in his direction before returning it to the path before her. The eccentric elf placing her hands on one of the axes to drive the notion home.

    “Don’t you have someone else to annoy? Anyone else?”

     

    • This reply was modified 4 months, 1 week ago by  Shelby Miller. Reason: Cause Apple sucks

    Delphie Cu Gohrrim~ Dyed Woman ~ Hand of the Enovy of Fir’ Bolg

    Bitch of the Bolg

    #42224

    Nicholas Gritsipis
    Participant

    The bravado cocked his head to the side, gazing over at the axes once more, before slightly smirking and returning to look ahead. He was told his eyes were always his greatest tell, and right now they glinted with a dose of pride. Out of the lot of Freehold Boggers, while Delphie might not have been the one whose company he most enjoyed, he certainly held her in respect. There was a reason she was so hotheaded beyond that of her clans nature, he was sure, and if what made her tick wasnt just pure warfare like the other of her ilk, he could respect that.

    “You know, I didn’t understand you until a few nights past.” He completely ignored her empty, though sassy, threats. After a few months around her he was sure she wouldn’t attack so easily. He sighed, and breathed deep the fresh air of spring. Another year, he thought to himself. He took his hat off and rest it beside him.

    “Its what ultimately led me to sacrificing myself to Portia to give the others some breathing room, you know. I owe you an apology for my own unspoken thoughts. I believed you to be another warrior, dime a dozen and warlusted. Not necessarily stupid but…” He decided not to finish the sentence, and instead got to his point. “Look. Point being, I was wrong to think of you as anything less than the perfect personification of Fir’Bolg itself. Believe it or not, I loved every second of growing up on the streets. It made me feel more connected to the world around me, more in touch with myself, and most importantly, more free. I might not have had an easy time, but who does in the bog? The unsmiling one crafted it to be harsh, and the worse you have it the better you turn out. I may not know a lot about your story or who you are deep down Delphie Cu Gohrrim, but I know it crafted you into a fierce combatant and an incredible fighter. I would trust you with my life before I trusted Jack or the others, save for maybe Devlin, because I know you would fight as if it was both of us on the line despite what you feel about me.”

    He let the words hang. He finally showed a bit of his hand, normally played close to chest. He thoroughly enjoyed his childhood, despite rushing over the words like they were hard to say. The spring air must have got to him, he thought.

    “If you want me to go, I will. I just wanted to make sure you understood…”

    A wind blew through the trees, as he staggered to say the last line of his admittedly long winded speech.

    “I would do the same for you.”

    I am The Jagged Shadow, The Ravens Mist, The Blade Dancer, The Spell Sunderer, and the wrecker of your shit.

    #42227

    Shelby Miller
    Participant

    The Gohrrim girl thought that her comment alone would have the young boy sulk elsewhere yet he still sat amused by her statement. Damn, the Council of Light really made it hard for threats to stick. Delphie sighed loudly, the sound full of annoyance and hot tempered air as Perth began to talk about how he understand her now. The ax wielding wild elf was about to cut him short right there, already having enough of this conversation. She wasn’t going to let some newbie fresh out of the swamp of her land start telling her who she was when he didn’t know a damn thing about Freehold yet alone her frozen homeland of Gohrrim. Her eyes flickered with rage and she had an insult on her lips until he mentioned His loss of life to Portia.

    A sobered look washed over her has as she paused in thought of her own account by Portia. One of her hands subconsciously rose ever so slowly to her neck as she recalled the taunting words Portia spoke as she was a bloody mess in front of the immortal. The echo of a loud snap of her own neck played in her head till a tinge of pain broke her out of the memory. Her eyes looked down to see her one hand gripping the blade of an axe, a line of crimson spilling into her palm. Causally she wiped the blood as well as the memory away upon her pant leg, turning to Perth yet again. She remember hearing he had drew Portia and Jack of Knives to the Aether in order to get them away from the inn. It had been foolish surely but brave move regardless. She’d give him that.

    The stupid comment had her arch an eyebrow, almost awaiting him to elaborate but even he knew better. A smirk came to her face at that. As the Bogger of the harsh street life continued, Delphie’s eyes began to scan the watch post looking for something, perhaps seeming to ignore Perth’s comments on his life. She took a glance below before jumping off the tower to the ground below. Moments past and perhaps the boy would have thought the blonde had abandon him. The elven girl however reappeared again, taking the steps back up. In her hands held two bottles in her arms, one she pushed into Perth’s arms with enough strength to slosh the liqueur out of the top.

    “Eirwyn’s always hiding something here. I trained him as a survivalist so he should know I’d find them. Moron.”

    The pride and condescending tone in her voice was apparent as she sat back down and greedily guzzled down some of the bottle in silence before she spoke up again.

    “You may be right but make no mistake, I will fight to protect my people that you’re right about. However if you think for one second I wouldn’t strike you down in cold fucking blood for the shit you try to pull you’re wrong. Council be damned. If you become a problem for our Kingdom by continuing your little stunts like the one with Enzo or trying to shit talk our choices on where to send aid, I will cut your throat and sleep like a baby after. You’re useful but don’t make yourself a liability for us.”

    The new hand of the Bolg spoke truthfully, warning her comrade as she sat there. Perhaps too brutally honest but it was expected from the golden haired elf. Their people were raised to be blunt and open about their feelings.

    Delphie Cu Gohrrim~ Dyed Woman ~ Hand of the Enovy of Fir’ Bolg

    Bitch of the Bolg

    #42228

    Jordan
    Participant

    ~Earlier~

    Blood. Water. Bubbles falling upward in a world where water replaced air. Before the young philosopher was the shadowed depths of a hungry sea, a tower wrought of a dying sun, and three masks shattered above a bonfire. A vast maelstrom erupted beneath him with sudden turbulence pulling him deeper into the depths. Air, precious as gold, slipped away.

    Eirwyn awoke in a terrible sweat, grabbing his throat and gasping for air: the dream recurred every night. He knew what it was. Regret washed over him before vanity pushed it aside. “It wasn’t.. a mistake… we need to.. cure it…” He tried to convince himself that his suffering was a means to an end. His huffing remained for several minutes, still feeling the drowning dream. He looked around his room in the inn; no dangers. A memory flashed when he looked down to his hands; left golemic, right still human. He could still remember the feeling of his body being slowly obliterated; fading and disintegrating into nothingness. Surely, had he not gotten his hands on mercurium he’d’ve faded by now. “This must have been what Maerla felt before she…” He muttered to himself. He wasn’t there, but he had heard about the Grey Crows horrific end. Shaking the fears and despair out of his head, he got up and began dressing to seek out the morning herbs. He needed a distraction.

    ~Now~

    Leaving the inn, Eirwyn followed the usual route he and Delphie always took: passing the soulwell. The weather was warmer, but it was still too cold for him; perhaps it was a sign of his deteriorated condition. He had given up his scarf in the ritualistic cremation of King Terasu Shiro, and had never replaced it. The breeze caused him to tighten his coat’s warm embrace, the sound of his golemic arm’s struggled whirring and grinding was also evidence of his ailments- or maybe he needed some grease.

    Ahead in his path he noticed a familiar fancy coat and also the even more recognizable attitude of a bitch’s voice. He approached, naturally silent as he does but not necessarily concealing himself nor his presence; just a light walker. After a bit, he was close enough to notice the bottles they held. He sighed in humor. “I take it nothing’s bloomed?” It was evident that he thought the two were hunting for herbs, found none, and took a break. He was out of earshot of their conversation until now.

    #42229

    Nicholas Gritsipis
    Participant

    The boy took the sloshing bottle and quickly stopped the drink from spilling to his lap. He seemed shocked that the famed bitch of the bog would even give his speech the time of day let alone a drink. Eirwyn stayed out of sight, yet his arms machinations made enough sound for Perths hand to tighten instinctively on something in his jacket. He drank from the bottle slowly, but remained cautiously on guard.

     

    “I wouldn’t have it any other way, trust.” The wildcard said with a slight urgency in his voice. He tapped the axe Delphie sat near to get her attention, and jerked his head slightly toward the sound.

    I am The Jagged Shadow, The Ravens Mist, The Blade Dancer, The Spell Sunderer, and the wrecker of your shit.

    #42241

    Shelby Miller
    Participant

    Delphie Cu Gohrrim nodded to his comment, unsure if he truly knew grasped her warning she gave him but no matter. Time would tell and he would learn. Whether that would involve an axe to the back of the head was up to him. His sudden head turned had Delphie follow his gaze to another familiar face of the Bolg. Eirwyn. The sassy elf and most of Freehold would’ve found a bunny more terrifying that the boy behind them. The blonde fighter turned back to Perth roll her eyes for his overreaction. It was a wonder she hadn’t rolled them so far back that they didn’t go back into her skull by now. She was surprised to still see him in town to be honest. The battles of late had been unkind to the dark haired rogue. He lost many of lives and was barely hanging on to his last. With the slumbering Nihilus now wandering Midworld, his could easily croak any day. If anything she expected the cowardly boy to be on his way out of town to hide in a hole somewhere. Seeing him here seemed almost out of place and perhaps oddly comforting despite their difference in fighting.<span class=”Apple-converted-space”> </span>

    “Hey, Hey. Nah, nothing as of late but I did find your liquor though. You hid your shit like a 3 year old. It’s pathetic really…”

    The witty girl retorted back to him, shaking the bottle in her hands in victory. The Dyed woman took a swig of the drink as she stood to lean over the railing to face the newcomer. Her axes took a rest on the railing top while her hands when to her hips in her usual stance.<span class=”Apple-converted-space”> </span>

    “Thought you would have fucked off to some pit somewhere? Turning over a new leave are we? That adorable..” Delphie called out, cocky as always but honestly even though it tended to be to be brutal.<span class=”Apple-converted-space”> </span>

    Delphie Cu Gohrrim~ Dyed Woman ~ Hand of the Enovy of Fir’ Bolg

    Bitch of the Bolg

    #42242

    Jordan
    Participant

    Eirwyn continued shuffling over until a couple feet away from the usual tower. “Y’know.” He looked up toward the shining blonde hair blocking the sun from his eyes. “Somehow I never expect such cold shoulders coming from you. I think it’s the hair; you look like a child’s doll: all innocent.” He notes jokingly and mimicking her with his hands on his hips. A snicker left him as he resumed his sluggish posture. “Honestly, I thought about it: leaving. But, no one would approve of my only option to survive. Then again, I’m not sure if Fang-Zhara would be very welcoming of me after what happened a couple moons back.” He touched his chest, still feeling the echo of the hole Marlowe had punched through his chest only two months ago. “Unless you have a better idea, I think this is the safest place for me; mercurium and all.”

    His gaze traveled to the einhander and pointed to the bottle with his golemic hand whirring. “She thinks she’s clever. I hid the rest in a spot that I can’t even get back to.” He whispered and nodded to the top of tower. “Well.” His voice returning to normal. “In hindsight, maybe it wasn’t the greatest spot.” He shrugged his shoulders lazily and pulled his coat closed again. “Argh, fuck the cold!”

    #42243

    Nicholas Gritsipis
    Participant

    Perth, quite content with only one drink in his hand for now, notes the stash for later. He watches Eirwyn fuddle with his jacket, before removing and offering his own.

    “You uh, seem a little chilly bud. I think its a little warm personally, but im not gonna judge.”

    Perth takes stock of the current company, looking over the three of them. He seems to linger a little on Eirwyn, but ultimately laughs it off.

    “Yknow, come to think of it, all three of us died at some point in the last moon. How about Jack or Devlin, either of them bite it as well?”

    As the bravado talks of death as if it was another day trip, he offers the rest of his bottle to Eirwyn.

    I am The Jagged Shadow, The Ravens Mist, The Blade Dancer, The Spell Sunderer, and the wrecker of your shit.

    #42247

    Shelby Miller
    Participant

    Eirwyn’s comment about her blonde hair and mimicking her body language earned him the middle finger Midworld salute, as she continued to do some serious drinking damage of the bottle in her hands. “Yeah Yeah, I get it. Let me guess, kid table jokes next? ” The pigtailed girl added with a grumble as the cowardly Bogger got closer to the tower, shivering violently as if there was snow on the ground. The Dyed woman of the Bog could help but chuckle at the poor rogue’s weakness to the elements.

    “Oh yeah, you had to remove you mark of Fang-zhara a few moons ago. Yeah, I bet she loved that. Looks like you’re stuck with us then.” The blonde answered, half muttering to the words to him as well as herself. It seemed to make the most sense for her comrade of Dagger Club to stay in such a dangerous place. Mercurium would be his only savior when death was in the air when Nihilus’s roamed the land. Mortal and Immortal had all to fear with his deathly aura washing over farms and towns like a stench of greedy of decay. Yet Lector still continued to grow powerful and build his army of fallen foes. The blood thirst elf lusted for the day Nihilus used the Sycthe on the undead scum of the earth. For Maerla, for Connail. She was ready to see the Guttonous immortal taken down. Delphie’s hand clenched into a fist tightly at the thought and shook it away. Distraction. She was here for a distraction from it all.

    “Jeez, the lack of running not warming that cowardly blood in you? Or perhaps it’s all that metal on you. Why not get rid of it and save us from having to put you down in battle when Fang-zhara uses it against us?” Delphie added in the conversation as Perth handed his jacket over to the chilled boy. “You realize the Unsmiling One has us live in the harshest environment of the so we can thrive and be relentless. Seriously, I question if you really are from the Bolg.” The twin axe wielder spoke with venom yet she took off the wool scarf she wore by her hip and tossed it to her comrade below. She didn’t like so many layers on regardless, it only held one down in a fight.

     

    “This Freehold weather is considered summer in Gohrrim. Being so close to the Jotunbrud we get lots of snow and deal with some harsh temperatures. Even though I’ve tried to push it through the thick skulls of Freeholds. Even though my people are from the Bolg, doesn’t mean we are all swamp people.” Delphie spoke and up as she pushed another strand of blonde hair that got caught in the wind out of her face, her green eyes rolling again before she focused on Perth’s statement and question regarding the deaths from last moon. Her face grew serious again yet her tone showed more annoyance than anything.  “No. Jack and Devlin managed somehow. Guess we just sucks…”

    Delphie Cu Gohrrim~ Dyed Woman ~ Hand of the Enovy of Fir’ Bolg

    Bitch of the Bolg

    #42248

    Jordan
    Participant

    Eirwyn accepted the bottle. “Thanks…” Being showered in garb; coat and scarf. “Somehow being raised in the swamp didn’t acclimate my body for snow.” He comments sarcastically as he adjusted the new articles of clothing on himself more comfortably. “This coward’s blood isn’t bogger remember?” He explained, unsure if he ever shared the old news with the two. “Call me crazy, but I want to keep the arm. Despite everything that’s happened, I still think the Eternal Architect would have been a greater ally than foe… But that’s neither here nor there. If she ever shows again, I doubt she’d be civil but… I think should try to reach out to the good in her. Maybe it could change the tides on this war against Nihilus, Lector, and Tenebrous. Or at the very least, buy you guys time to find one: my time here is limited after all-” He choked up at his remembering the drowning dream. He swallowed the fear and shook it out of his head. He didn’t want to think about it. He wanted to push it far enough to forget; long enough to accomplish his goals.

    “A-anyway…” He adjusted the coats and scarf again more comfortably. “Let’s talk about something less morbid, huh?” A fake smile. The coward was always a terrible liar.

    #42249

    Nicholas Gritsipis
    Participant

    “Let me give you some advice. Not everyone you meet is going to have some good side to em. You keep trying to ‘reach out to the good in people’ like you did with the now deposed king of Kenrei? Eventually theyre gonna reach back into you and pull something out. You dont got a whole lot left in you either, so risking it isnt the best idea.”

    Now wearing only a stained white woollen shirt, Perth smirked at the cowardly boy.

    “Gettin some more friends to watch your back isnt a bad idea right about now, to tell you the truth. Just dont be looking for ’em in the hearts of monsters.”

    As he says this, he winks at the partially golemic bogger. The two were similar in a lot of ways, true, but their respective motives and outlook on life were very different.

    I am The Jagged Shadow, The Ravens Mist, The Blade Dancer, The Spell Sunderer, and the wrecker of your shit.

    #42250

    Squirrel!
    Participant

    Soft hums filled the air, coming from the side path near the other tower. The sounds of disarray and scattered movement. Donning nothing but the color black, sleeves removed showing off a prominent Bear Tattoo on the figures upper left arm. Around his neck hung a metal bear paw necklace. A more corrupted arm squeezed tightly onto the handle of a particularly vicious, but more calmed looking axe. Green eyes swirled around slowly at the voices nearby. The bloodstained features and tall figure walking in was easily identified as he pulled his mask down unconcealing his face. It was Squirrel, once more returning from bloody adventures.

     

    His approach became softer as he drew nearer, the sound of the pommel of his axe tapping against the ground as he walked with it. His features would soften from the long walk he had taken back from where ever he had gone. His face turning to a happier, less netural, demeanor, something was certainly off about him, and the axe. The weapon seemed almost newer, and didn’t seem to sway him at all in his mood on the surface. His boot would tap against the handle of the axe as he leaned on the head of it with his arms. His eyes would scan the area around him before his tongue would slowly peek out of his mouth and he would blow raspberries at the general public. His eyes would shut before reaching up with clawed fingers to scratch at his forehead gently, chipping off some dried blood and leaving streaks in some fresh blood.

     

    His eyes would open once more as he leaned heavily on the axe with another soft hum of thought before smiling softly. “Like terrible decisions of the past I come back to haunt you all in the present.” He snickers as he slowly uprights himself before ducking to hang his axe around his neck.

     

    “Who gonna catch me up on all the stuff and ruff and gruff I missed?”

    "Everyone just calls me: Squirrel... or Squirrel the Ballista if you're feeling titles!"

    #42251

    Shelby Miller
    Participant

    “Hey, it’s your funeral Dipshit” was the last comment she made in regards to the gleaming arm of metal Eirwyn had. If she knew the stubbornness of their kingdom, she wasn’t going to convince the boy otherwise. Especially with someone so close to death’s door, people became prideful and hellbent on a path. The elf remember how he sympathized with Fang-zhara when ten of the townsfolk became willing hostages. Hell she had been one but for a different reason. Many felt for the immortal for her struggles. Everyone but her. Delphie was done with each and every immortal and could trust nor make deals with any.

    Delphie listened to Perth attempt to talk some kind of sense into him, another lecture for the great Eirwyn to ignore surely. It wasn’t the first time someone attempted to lead him on a path. Devlin, Ichabod, and even she had long coverbut a part of her hoped it wasn’t the last lecture he’d receive.

    The blonde watched them converse as she slurred up the rest of the bottle with ease. The mere liquor in its sea glass container was no match for this elf’s iron liver, and the bottle was soon empty. Delphie’s green eyes glanced at the lacking green bottle with slight disappointment before tossing it without looking to the side. The Gohrrim hadn’t expected a new voice to answer in mere seconds after, this causing the blonde to turn in the direction she discarded the glass.

    The bottle had landed and crashed into a cluster of sea shards by the feet of the traveler coated in a fresh and dry coat of crimson. His arm still in its dismal state she had seen before, but a smile upon his face that she returned back to him. Once again, another familiar face to the warrior elf.

    “Eyyyy! I was wondering when you were gonna show up! Got tired of jerking off elsewhere? You missed enough!”

    The feisty elf called out to Squirrel as she snatched the recently given bottle of liquor from Eirwyn’s hands to guzzle down as well.

    Delphie Cu Gohrrim~ Dyed Woman ~ Hand of the Enovy of Fir’ Bolg

    Bitch of the Bolg

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