Holiday Letters (Open)

Home Forums Annie’s Inn Holiday Letters (Open)

This topic contains 4 replies, has 2 voices, and was last updated by  Shelby Miller 1 week, 4 days ago.

Viewing 5 posts - 1 through 5 (of 5 total)
  • Author
    Posts
  • #41908

    Shelby Miller
    Participant

    Quill to paper. Quill to ink. Repeat. The process was ever repeating and redundant. The painstaking twist and curve of the writing utensil edged the aged paper with uncertainty and frustration unlike the fluent and graceful strokes of others. It was most definitely an art form that the elf would never get used to. While those with skilled penmanship could create a picturesque collection of well documented words, the warrior herself could only muster scribbles of letters that remotely resembled the work of a child’s. Her S’s swayed when they should have swerved. Her O’s lack their lustrous circular shape. It was nothing less than pathetic. A groan escaped the blonde’s lips in pure anguish, green eyes reviewing her miserable work around her with embarrassment. Papers laid in disarray in a mess of a circle around her, as if taunting her failure from her seated position on the floor from all angles. Her fingernails were unevenly coated in dark ink and her wrist ached from the motion of the quill. She was pretty sure she had ink in her hair at this point, she just hope the ink splattered on the ground wouldn’t stain badly.

     

    Had she been here for 3 hours? Maybe 4? The stubborn elf stretched her stiff arms, cracking each finger individually. The popping noise echoed the walls like a sigh of relief. Annie’s Inn was quiet for once, ghostly even. Most Freefolk left after the “fun” events last moon. Even she, the prideful elf of the elf had been unsure if they would survive. Yet they did somehow. With immortals fleeing, it seemed like a pretty good time to breathe easy even if it was for only a short time. It also seemed that there were some Kingdom holidays and celebrations coming around. Nothing the Gohrrim girl knew about or cared about. The people from the Bolg typically celebrated once a year, Cath’ Muirthemne. The celebration that lasted for days. While people celebrated with family, here she sat. Absolutely miserable and out of her element. Why might one ask? Her Envoy had demanded such. Devlin gave her the task of writing letter after damn letter to many Freefolk along with her typical two letters. The Acting Envoy of Fir’ Bolg told it was to practice her writing, that it would help her penmanship. Delphie believed it to be a sick and twisted joke yet or even perhaps a punishment yet here she sat. Several finished letters laid in a pile, ready for a courier to take them out of her sight but she felt as if she would be here for all eternity. At least Tranquil wouldn’t be angry about a mess at home. Another grumble left her mouth as she glared at the unfinished work around her before taking the quill to paper again, releasing her frustrations on the innocent paper.

    Delphie Cu Gohrrim~ Dyed Woman ~ Fir Bolg

    Bitch of the Bolg

    #41909

    Kato
    Participant

    *The Envoy of Gotterdammerung entered the common room of the inn.  He was quiet, but his footsteps could be heard in his distinctive walk.  Heel, toe, heel, toe.  The boots struck the wood of the floor.  He saw the warrior and took in the scene for a few moments.  Then he went to the kegs, got a water for himself and one for the elf.  He walked softer after that, though not quietly.  He sat down the two cups.*
    “You know,” the cambion said, cutting off the stinging words he knew the woman was preparing to pepper him with “when I first woke up from the Ordeal, I couldn’t write Wyrdspiel very well myself. It was frustrating.  Like learning to write all over, but angering because I wanted to just be able to get on with life. I found that, if you relax your grip it goes easier.  You aren’t wielding an axe, that would be easier.  Think of each letter as a stroke in battle.  Each word is an exchange with your foe.” *the necromancer took a sip.*  “Might help.” *he took off his helm and sat it in the seat next to him, waiting for the profanity laden reply*

    IG Nayesh
    Alt 1: Darius Torteval
    Alt 2: Garnet Stoneflow
    OOG Jason "Kato" Krips

    #41912

    Shelby Miller
    Participant

    The Gohrrim’s elven ears picked up the sound of footfall on the Inn steps, apparently there were others in the small trading town besides her. She figured she wasn’t the only one stuck here, not the only one who didn’t return to her kingdom and family. The blonde however was unhappy with the company who can into view. A familiar face? yes. An unwelcomed face? perhaps. It was common knowledge that Delphie Cu Gohrrim gave the Envoy of Gotterdammerung a hard time to put it lightly. She gave pretty much all of Freehold hell but even the girl of Fir’ Bolg could admit she went out of her way to taunt Nayesh. From her witty tongue that could cut steel with it’s words to perhaps taking too much amusement in his failures, the warrior had made it clear that she didn’t like him. They were very different people, two very different people that were in a constant clash and conflict. Despite their differences they typically could play nicely yet it didn’t stop the petty elf from lashing out at him from time to time. The hot-blooded girl from the Bolg scowled as the Cambion took in the chaos of the paper kind with his dark eyes,prepared for the man to take advantage of the scene around him to belittle her. Hell, if it was her she wouldn’t of hesitated. Yet the veteran of Freehold stayed silent. Instead he moved over to counter and poured two drinks from the water keg before moving closer. The sound of the liquid hitting the bottom of the cups had the first realize how dry her throat was, the warrior clearly neglecting to eat or drink anything since she had gotten to work hours ago. She had gotten so wrapped up with the task she had barely moved from her spot.

    Delphie stood and took the cup from him greedily as he sat at a table near, the blonde stretched her stiff legs for a few moments as she guzzled the drink down quickly. Her eyes narrowed as he began to speak, her green eyes glaring and expecting to hear some foolish insult in her direction. Surely some unoriginal bullshit banter about her uncultured ways from her horrible handwriting to her terrifying table manners. The words Nayesh spoke had surprised her instead. He told her of a similar dilemma he faced before, even comparing fighting to writing. It seemed relatable enough yet she rose an eyebrow in disbelief and question that the art of wielding a weapon that could end a person’s life could be really compared to scribbling fancy letters on paper. “Well it would be easier if I didn’t have a shit ton and a half of these to write out, this is nothing like using a weapon. Using an axe is fun, especially when it makes that crunching noise in someone’s skull. This?” The blonde gestured at the massacre of ink, and stained pages around them. “Is not fun…” The Armswoman groaned as she carried the empty cup back to the counter of kegs, studying the taps for something much stronger to drink. “I’m not drunk enough for this.”

    Delphie Cu Gohrrim~ Dyed Woman ~ Fir Bolg

    Bitch of the Bolg

    #42011

    Kato
    Participant

    *The cambion stacked a few of the obvious trash attempts to the side. * “You may want to take a rest every once in awhile.  Remember when you first learned how to swing those axes.  The anger burned like fire, the will pushed you hard.  Then, fire was in your muscles, the ache and strain told you that you had made progress.  This is like that.  You have to imagine the words, like that fire, in your mind. Let them flow through you and into your hands.  But, this time, instead of great slashes, mighty hacks, and tremendous lunges you are practicing softer,” *the cambion had pulled a quill up while talking and now drew the words he spoke onto a scrap paper*” smaller, more refined movements.” *the Envoy placed the quill onto the table* “With my axe, I can kill or defend hundreds.  With my words, I can save or doom thousands.” *a sad look passed over the grim facade of the necromancer* “And both actions are usually cause for regret. Once you’ve expended that fire of fluent writing, you will always try to continue the tirade.  But, it is better to return to the line.  Sharpen that wit back to a fine cutting edge.  Then, unleash your next attack at the paper which will carry your masterpiece to the eyes and mind of the recipient. ” *the man stretched his arms.  Joints creaking not with flesh-shaping magic, but with age and old injuries never fully healed*  “Sometimes, we must pretend that a situation is something that it is not.  So that the desired result is accomplished.  Sometimes, we have to pour ourselves into performing the expected role so that the grand finale can be played out according to the script. Understand?”

    IG Nayesh
    Alt 1: Darius Torteval
    Alt 2: Garnet Stoneflow
    OOG Jason "Kato" Krips

    #42062

    Shelby Miller
    Participant

    The warrior decided to takes his advice at a small break as her interest in hard liquor outweighed the task at hand for now. Hell perhaps her hand writing would get better after a few bottles. As she carefully maneuver the graveyard of shredded paper and ink plots, the girl listened to the red skinned Envoy comments on writing. Each concept he provided always lead back to battle, comparing an axes swing to the slash of an inked quill across paper. Delphie rolled her eyes at the poor comparison that writing and letter making could be envisioned like battle. She could however appreciate the effort given by the older man to try and encourage her. If there was one thing Delphie learned while in Freehold, it was the stubbornness of others to help. The elf Bee-lined to the jug of ale, filling the empty cup she had with the liquid. It wasn’t to her liking but it was better than nothing. As she turned to face the Envoy and veteran of the town, she walked closer to take an inspecting at the man’s work. Perfect loops. The words balanced on the page unlike her crooked words that looked more like a wave then a line. The prideful elf scowled at the neatness compared to her disaster as she brought the cup to her lips.

    The comment regarding the influence the Envoy of the Corpse kingdom had with letters was something she appreciated less however. A cold look crossed the dyed woman’s face as she responded. “Oh are you going to teach me politics now? Let’s start with the whole killing Ragna thing then we can move up to all the other bullshit. “ Delphie retorted harshly as she finished her cup quickly and moving back to her seated position with the letters. Her eyes gazing over the small stack of finished letters silently as Nayesh finished speaking, talking about roles people had to play. The ever vocal elf spoke up just as he finished, perhaps even cutting off the axe users last word. “Oh please! Don’t try and justify how being “Mr. Important Asshole of Gotterdammerung” gives you the almighty power to kill thousands of people with some cheap letters on fancy paper.” The warrior’s voice grew loud in the room, her anger growing.

     

    “You want to know why I enjoy battle so much?” The Armsman woman spoke her own question to Nayesh, her hands reaching for the one of the finished letters. “Cause past all the blood, pain, and death of it all. It’s honest. An axe can’t lie to you like a person can. A knife’s wound to the front doesn’t hurt as much as a knife to the back by a liar.” The elf’s finger ran across the smooth paper of the letter before looking back to him, her green eyes full of rage. “By all means, you can go on about the power high you must feel when playing friend and games you can play on paper. All I know is I don’t have to lie to myself to sleep at night “ The blonde haired Gohrrim elf finished speaking, her hands moving to her in annoyance at Nayesh. “You can go now…” 

    Delphie Cu Gohrrim~ Dyed Woman ~ Fir Bolg

    Bitch of the Bolg

Viewing 5 posts - 1 through 5 (of 5 total)

You must be logged in to reply to this topic.