Thelania: Embers of Dusk (Medieval Fantasy RP) (Closed)

[DeadOnTheStrip]

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Cyrus ❦ Nullvaul

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Cyrus was soon left alone with the slumbering woman. She eyed the woman. It seemed as thou she was just exhausted as she saw no outward signs of injury's. Cyrus sighed as she eyed her own injury. It stung quite a bit but she made no outward appearance to the pain. Moving away from the wall her eyes now on the two dead bandits. Wishing that it was her that had taken their life's. Not the blue hair giant that had saved her life. Now that she thought about it she was pretty sure the blue hair woman was an elf as well. Cyrus was tall but compared to the other woman she was miniature.

Paying no mind to the unconscious woman but not leaving her as she promised. Cyrus watched the others from the alley way that she was attacked in. Her mood extremely sour as she looked out on to the hero's of the town. Nearly all the bandits had been dispatched in some way or another.

Voices of the villagers were growing louder as they peered from their homes. Still to scared to come out into the open. Cyrus want to roll her eyes but kept her face void of emotion. Yes she most diffidently should have gone home. This sort of adventure was not something she was use to. She was a loner. Not one to care for other well being.

Her gold eyes dropped to the woman. She was starting to stir. Cyrus moved her body as she stood over the woman that was put in her charge. Slowly the woman woke. Panic was instance as the woman looked for the men that Cyrus assumed was terrorizing her. Cyrus did nothing to sooth the woman but did not move as she did not want to cause her more alarm. The woman gaze landed on Cyrus, confusion now the dominant emotion. Still Cyrus did nothing but hold out her hand. The woman rougher hand slipped into her own. Helping her to her feet. The woman wavered for a moment before she found her balance.

Cyrus would not call herself a mean person. More like she lacked empathy. She had no feelings for anyone else but herself and her kin. So she had to fight rolling her eyes again when she lead her out of the darkness and into the open area of the village. As she moved across the open area a voice spoke out clearly directed toward her. Her eyes flicked the the male as he asked if could she could manage walking. She had not even notice her gate had change into a limp. Her injury effecting her more than she was willing to admit. "I can walk fine." She finally said as she came to a stop near the others that had gathered back together.

Location: Rowanhold Emotion: Distressed Company: No one

[Laureli ObsidianFang]

Oralanalia gave some inexplicable smirk to herself for a moment listening to Jorgen speaking to Reilley and helping the blonde up. Turning she spotted Lanza who was calling out to everyone nearby and setting the little tavern whose sign he had perched upon earlier as their designated meeting point. Spying Sif darting toward the alley where a scream had arose she spotted Cyrus there, the bandit who had surrounded the elf being quickly dealt with by the giant woman. That at least was another member of the group secure then, there were only a couple left to seek out in the village, the rest all seemed present, accounted for and in one piece. When Cyrus left the alley way with the villager Ora nodded towards the elf, "See, there she is, alive and well enough." she informed the archer who looked over unsteadily and seemed to relax at the confirmation of the team mates safety. Looking back to Jor and her sibling she seemed to weigh something a moment and then nodded to herself, "Take Reilley to the tavern then, this battle seems well won and the villagers surely have some form of supplies, and considering we just mucked up their mess you should find them obliging." she instructed Jorgen before turning on her heel. "I'll be along shortly, I'll make sure there are no more bandits to be dealt with and round up the last of the group." she said with a sigh, expressing her displeasure at being sunk to such tasks. While the others checked bandits bodies for money, much of which she noted to herself had likely been the villagers anyway, the vampire headed back through to where she had left the bandit unconscious. Checking that the others seemed occupied Ora hefted aside the body that lay atop the man and made as quick of work as she was able dragging him out of sight through an empty alleyway. In spite of her small stature and previously quite weak body the white haired woman possessed more strength than one likely would have guessed at thanks to her vampiric nature though still no match in brawn to many of the group. It was at least enough to get the bandit where she wanted, pulling him to a mostly collapsed little shed that she had noted earlier and pulling him inside where she bound and gagged him, leaving him hidden there where she would later return.

With that task completed Ora obliterated the tracks of dragging him and then pressed onward through the village to where she had last left Vorsryn. If she hadn't been curious enough to want to question him later she might not have bothered to seek him out and see that he was still alive, but her intrigue from earlier won over. At first approach of the scene she hadn't noticed much change, "The battle is over, either kill them or bring them to the tavern you great lump." she called to the dragon slayer as she headed towards them. It was then as she drew nearer that she noticed something was different, she'd earlier overlooked the young bandit who had been knelt by his own corpse but now she saw that he was charging at Vorsryn with a manic expression. Not seeing the entire situation just yet, the boys dead body lost among those of his fellow bandits nearby, she did not at first know what was happening, though something certainly seemed quite wrong. Instinct pulled the daggers from her sheathes before she winked out of sight, weaving her magic around her again to render her unseen again as she tried to take stock of the situation. She could not tell if the bandit was attacking Vorsryn or not, but the terrified look on his face made her question rather than halting him with an attack as she might otherwise have done. The scent of blood was once again heavy in the air in the circle of dead bandits and her body was tense as she eyed the laughing older illusory bandit who stood calm. She had some sense of magic in the air but she was not much experienced in magic of broader strokes to know it well though she sensed something a bit akin to her own works of stealth and illusion. Who the source of the magic was she had no idea, it was possible one of the bandits was a mage, or perhaps the elf, even Vorsryn himself could have been giving off the magic though she doubted he would use such types of spellcraft, perhaps even it was someone else she was not aware of, there was no way yet to be sure. Her presence had been made clear when she called to Vorsryn, though she had disappeared now from view they would all be aware that she was there somewhere. Silently she crept up behind the amused older bandit, holding one of her daggers at the ready at his back. "What pray-tell do you find so amusing?" she asked icily, announcing her presence behind him. Now so close to the bandit she realized something was definitely not right, he looked real, he sounded real, but it would have been difficult to fool a vampires nose, she couldn't smell him, could not smell the blood that ought to be flowing just beneath his grimy flesh. Lowering her blade she stepped back, "Interesting," she said loudly though her tone sounded a touch disappointed to find that the bandit did not seem real. Something odd was at work here though she did not know entirely what just yet.

Ora's Theme - Moonlight Hall

[Laureli ObsidianFang]

Reilley looked to Jorgen and gulped a bit at his words, the idea of getting used to being hit anywhere let alone in the head didn't sound promising. The blonde went to nod but stopped and groaned quietly instead, deciding against the unpleasant movement for the time being. A grim smile came briefly to the archers lips as the old man commented on Ora's nature. "S'okay, you can speak the truth... my sister is rude..." the noble admitted a little blearily. As Jorgen requested that any vomiting be done away from him the dhampir grimaced, "I should be fine..." though there was not full confidence in that reassurance. As the old mercenary hoisted Reilley up the youth accepted the aid gladly, still holding the rag to the bleeding head wound and looking over as both Ora and Jor reassured that they would find Cyrus soon enough. It was only a moment before the older Talvos apparently spotted the woman in question and pointed her out to Reilley who seemed much relieved to see that the final member of the flanking team was accounted for, too disoriented to take note of her leg injury at a distance. All resistance now gone the blonde was quite compliant as Jorgen hefted most of the weight and tried to at least not force the old man to have to drag. Ora had told the man to bring her sibling to the tavern where Lanza had just told them all to gather up when they were ready and Reilley was complacent with the idea of taking a seat somewhere soon.

With Jor's aid the two would make it to the tavern with little fuss, the villagers seemed to know that the battle was over and many had finally crept out to scurry through the village. Fires were being extinguished, heads counted, some possessions reclaimed, and any wounded gathered up to be seen to, and soon thanks would be given to their rescuers. As they drew nearer the others Reilley looked up towards Sif who was speaking to Samuel and Ganhoff. This close up the blonde couldn't help being awed at how large the woman truly was, "You're so large.. hyurblurgghhh-" this woozy revelation was interrupted by a less than pleasant bout of vomiting. Reilley managed to lean away a bit, spewing onto a thankfully unoccupied patch of dirt and groaning. "Ugh... S-sorry.." the archer apologized to all present. Apparently Reilley had guessed wrong when trying to assure Jorgen there would be no throwing up. It was embarrassing but given the youths current state excusable at least, and the dhampir was eager to get inside and sit down where things would hopefully stop pitching this way and that quite so much. A bit of time to take it easy would be most welcome, and perhaps when the nausea had subsided a bit of something to eat.

[Star Shuutaa]

"As free as a starving wolf."
theme

When none answered back, he began to step forward, but stopped at the sound of Ora's chiding. He was in no mood for the small woman whose attitude mirrored that of undeserving royal brats, and chose to ignore her outright. The sudden screaming child running at him distracted him from her now invisible self. Vorsryn noticed the body on the ground, yet he ran at the dragon slayer as if alive. His annoyance increased, he brought his sword up and around to fell the child, but the speed of it was slow and coupled with the blunt edge, he planned to simply knock him out.

But the child instead shattered like glass.

For a moment, his face was that of genuine surprise. It was the last thing he expected to happen, but with the illusion having been revealed by it's destruction, the dragon slayer let out a sigh. His eyes then turned to the bandit. The way he brazenly stood there and spoke was quite interesting, so he approached the man with steady steps. While his annoyance was still present, the going ons in front of him kept him from focusing inwardly too much. He didn't get too close to the bandit, but was within his sword's range.

"Is it safe to assume you will shatter as well?" He asked, his sword lowered. The sounds of the screams had ceased at some point, he finally noticed, and it seemed as though everything was said and done with liberating Rowanhold. At least, from a current viewpoint. This seemed to go, surprisingly, a lot smoother and faster than originally anticipated with a bunch of rag-tags, but when they rendezvous he'd learn of what shape they all ended up in. In a way, he had it relatively easily, if somewhat boring.

The citizens were beginning to make some of themselves known with their curious looks, still mostly hidden among the buildings and rubble just in case something happened. When all of this would be settled here with the probably fake bandit, Vorsryn might have to peel himself away from the group to take care of some business, but felt with Ora's presence looming invisibly she would more than likely not let him go if not outright follow him. Another sigh escaped his nose, guess he was stuck with the lot for awhile, at least until they disbanded or he found a chance to leave.

[Ippotis]

Erwin Ganhoff

xxxxxHaving tied a good number of jingling purses around his belt, Ganhoff stood up from his looting and leaned on his sword like a staff. He grunted at Sif's retort on his constant questioning of her motives. The giantess' spirit amused him somewhat; here was someone clearly nonhuman putting her life on the line to protect a bunch of raggedy peasants, and supposedly wasn't expecting a reward for her efforts. Such people still existed, apparently.

xxxxx"Oh, I would question the stones, definitely," he answered, "Especially if they were willing to fight my companions and I one moment, and then fight beside us the next. Such a turncoat makes me more than a little paranoid --and reasonably so, I'd say. One may never know what you'd do next when our backs are turned." Between the giantess and all the elves who happened to be drawn to the group like flies to a torch, Ganhoff had plenty of reasons to watch his back as it was.

xxxxxGanhoff hoched and spat on the ground, the glob happening to splatter on the face of a bandit. "But then," he continued, grinning maliciously, "I can't with all good conscience hold it against you. I only base what I say on what I'd do, if our places were reversed." The sound of Reilley gibbering in his concussive state drew Ganhoff's attention, and darting another glance at Sif, he hefted his sword over his shoulder and ambled towards the group tending to the lad. "Our young friend took a hard hit back there. Let's put our differences aside for now and see to him, shall we?" Approaching his companions huddled around Reilley, he looked over their heads with an contemplative expression.

xxxxx"You're a lucky one," Ganhoff told him in an uncharacteristically amiable tone. "Even an archer shouldn't go bareheaded into battle. Wearing as little as a leather cap will do wonders for your health."

[Idiosyncratic Method]

"To call me a turncoat implies that I was truly on the bandits' side in the first measure." Sif said idly, having just finished examining the corpses. She was no longer taking Ganhoff's words personally, that much was clear, meaning she was either beginning to accept him, or she no longer had an investment in what he thought of her. However, his comment on what he would do did bring some reaction,
"Well..." Sif said with a frighteningly guileless smile, "...I think the world would be far less interesting if everyone did what we would do." She seemed to mean no ill will by the statement.

Soon, they were joined by others; Samuel, who had just finished his own fight, and a younger man with dark hair. Samuel was still towing the undead villager that the jotunn had earlier summoned to assist them. Sif cocked her head in something of a tired half-nod.
"I'm more surprised you took it so well," She said to the beastman, "I've learned that my kind are rather ... unpopular in these Southern lands." She looked the part, she used the magic. Good intentions or no, it was enough to mark her as evil in the eyes of many.
"Realistically, his help-" Sif pointed to the skeleton, "-may have sealed my death warrant." It was stupid really. She needed to learn to be less impulsive. Think with her head rather than her gut. In fact, she probably had this argument with herself already. It was unlikely to be the last time.
"Either way, thank him, not me. I just gave him the power to act on his will." As if his mention spurred him into action, the skeleton approached Sif, rapping on her armor to get her attention before slapping something into her hand in what could only be indignation. Then it stalked off, attempting to stick it's thumbs into a pair of trousers that no longer existed, but not before giving Sieg a quick scratch. Apparently not as angry as he let on.

In Sif's hand, he had left a ten-piece, greened with age. The giantess gave a light, soundless, Hah. But the darker-haired man spoke up during all this, giving her little time to savor the small victory. Rather than explain what just happened though, the necromancer elected to pocket the coin and reply to Lanza,
"If I'm to be honest, I've already met my goals, as yours and mine were one and the same, I think..." She trailed off,
"Don't get me wrong, I've no intention of asking for a cut." Sif put her hand up in a gesture of peace. These people seemed the honorable sort, but if they had done this for money, the large woman had little right to ask for any, especially as she had in fact been rescued herself ... in a way.
"But thank you for your part, and I'm glad to have helped." Just then there were new arrivals; a blond man riding blearily atop the aging plate-clad warrior that had come to assist Samuel earlier. For a moment the blond appeared to marvel at her size, then turned out his stomach. It was perhaps altogether the most extraordinary and confusing thing she had ever seen. It was all she could do just to watch. Until Ganhoff suggested they attend to him. But she wasn't exactly sure what help she would be, though to be fair she could carry him. Samuel meanwhile was tending to the elf Sif had assisted earlier.

The dark-haired man meanwhile, went on to give a sweeping speech on their victory and instructed the fighters towards the nearest tavern. But ... wasn't that Samuel's job?

Sif was confused again.

[Literary_Method]

Jorgen Kaden

“Aye, will do. Give a shout if you run into any problems.” the older man said as Ora disappeared further into the village. All things considered he felt the girl could handle herself what with her invisibility and other talents. He chuckled at Reilley's words, they were siblings so it made sense that the young noble would talk so frankly about his sister. “Aye lad,” he said a little more quietly as they began to walk toward the inn, “but even so she has a good head on her shoulders. I would not like to cross her.” As they made their way across the square Jor took a moment to survey the battlefield. Save for a few nicks and bumps the fight had been entirely one sided. The bandits never stood a chance. Once again Jor felt a mixture of anger and regret boil up from the pit of his stomach. He despised the kind of person who would lend themselves to such a lifestyle but in time the realm would need all of its strength. Had circumstances been different these boys and young men might have been in the service of the crown protecting the very people they had terrorized. Instead they would serve no greater purpose than to fertilize the trees that would mark their graves. Jor spat on the ground adding a bit more blood to the slurry that made up most of the town square. It was all such a waste.

Once they came closer to the others Jor hardly noticed the looting that was going on. Such things were part of a mercenary's life and he wasn't one to judge. In a line of work where payment wasn't always guaranteed one had to make due. What did pique his interest was the skeletal fighter who seemed to be walking away from the scene. Necomancy wasn't something he was often ran across and to see it used for a noble purpose was somewhat unusual. He wondered who had resurrected the skeleton but was brought out of his musing by Reilley's mutterings over Sif and subsequent fit of sickness. Jor barely had time to lean the lad away from him before the blond spilled the contents of his stomach all over the ground beside them. He was grateful the vast majority of the ejecta has missed him though. “We'll see about getting him a cap once he can walk in a straight line unaided.” Jor said giving Ganhoff a nod as the red head approached, “But for now what say we settle in the tavern and tend to the wounded.”

[Laureli ObsidianFang]

Oralanalia was a bit intrigued to see the boy that had been running at Vorsryn suddenly shatter as soon as he was touched. So then neither of them seemed to be real, that was interesting. The dragon slayer after registering surprise at the event had approached the man she'd been standing behind a moment before and inquired about his own solidity. A few feet away the vampire gave the illusory bandit a last look before she glanced around at the villagers who were slowly slipping from their homes and turned her attention more fully to Vorsryn. Slowly as she sensed no likely further danger at the moment Ora let her magic unravel to fade back into sight after she had assured that she was not displaying her nature. "Well what strange company you keep Dragon Slayer. As I was saying however the battle has been won, we are all gathering at the Tavern as I'm sure all of us could do with a bit of throat wetting. We've much to discuss and I imagined that you might wish to join us, after all that dragon flag I saw, who knows, it might herald real dragons." she said, voice almost teasing as though she were trying to tempt him. She was mostly just amusing herself, but she was still curious enough about his eyes that she did hope he might stick around a bit longer. Casting her blue eyes around the area a little she could see no obvious sign of whoever was responsible for the illusions but she wasn't going to bother combing the village for them either, so far they seemed harmless enough. "If your illusionist friend is as bored as I would guess anyone should be in this dingy little place, and looking for something better to do with their time then they might join us as well." she said in a louder tone that was sure to carry. While she wasn't keen on more company in general if they were going to be further discussing things and gods forbid, actually adventuring further then someone with such magical talents might be useful in some manner if nothing else.

With her offers such as they were extended Ora turned on her heel without bothering to spare another word or glance and stepped calmly over a body as she headed off towards the tavern again. That flag had caught her attention, mostly because she felt it was familiar and now it was going to nag at her until she could figure it out, likely a good thing she'd packed a few extras in Reilley's bag, maybe she could find something in one of the books. Hopefully the others were seeing to the blonde or would be soon, she had knowledge of anatomy so far as where to strike but not much medical practice and no real desire to spend her time cleaning her sibling up either. She was pleased to note as she strolled liesurely back through the village that no one seemed to be heading out towards the collapsed shed where she had stowed her bandit, it wasn't likely that he would be discovered before she'd finished with him. Reaching the open expanse where they had battled she saw that most of the group was still out here rather than in the tavern yet, looting still from the look of it and talking a bit. With a snort of disdain she rolled her eyes and shook her head, these people were so slow and useless. Without bothering to say anything she passed them by and headed right into the tavern which was at the moment being cleaned up a bit by the owners who looked up for a moment like startled deer. Seeing only a girl instead of a bandit they likely feared to find they relaxed and continued their work, a woman breaking away to come and look her over a little. "You're one'a them what saved our village?" she asked with obvious skepticism of the girl before her.

Oralanalia gave the woman a most unimpressed glare, "Indeed, and the least that you fools could do is show some gratitude. We'll be needing refreshments, we're tired, and some place to stay most likely though I doubt you've many rooms here." she cast a disapproving look around the small building, villages were lucky to have an inn at all, if this tavern had any rooms it wouldn't be very many. "We've wounded so clear a place and bring clean cloths and water and that other nonsense so they can be tended." her tone was imperious as she commanded the woman. The woman scowled a little at the girls attitude but casting a glance towards the rest of her family seemed to give in, "We haven't got no rooms, but the rest I can see to." she said trundling off to see to some of the demands. A young lad found Ora a chair to sit in which she dusted off vigorously before lounging on, but he seemed to hang about afterward and finally she looked at him sternly. "Yes?" she regarded him with a blank expression. "We've no rooms and all, but maybe we could put you up still, we've a barn only its empty now, innit? Bandits took all'a the beasties and all." he fidgeted a bit, clearly not comfortable with offering this girl a barn to sleep in, and rightly so. Ora's blank expression turned sour before he'd even finish speaking, a barn? She had helped save a village and the best that they could offer was a barn? Did they expect her to sleep in the hay? "You've a room with a bed that you sleep in haven't you?" her tone was icy and the boy gulped and nodded. "I would think you're grateful too for us saving your village, yes? Glad that we didn't let those bandits kill dear mum and dad?" he gave another nod, not liking where this was going as he looked down guiltily. "Good, then you won't mind giving me your bed while you sleep in the barn tonight then." she said firmly. Before the boy could do more than open his mouth to try and stammer out some complaint or argument though her fun was spoiled.

Ora's Theme - Moonlight Hall

[Laureli ObsidianFang]

Reilley gave a soft grunt at Jorgen's words about Ora and not wanting to cross her, true enough she wasn't very pleasant to have angry at you and she could be deadly if she wanted to be, but at least she wasn't prone to fits of violence or anything. The sight of the skeleton had managed to escape the blonde's notice busy vomiting as the youth had been for a moment, but it was a quick enough recovery at least. Sif seemed bewildered by the event and Reilley felt quite embarrassed, glancing to Ganhoff as the brightly dressed mercenary turned his attention. The red haired man made mention of a cap and how lucky Reilley was having suffered such a blow to the head and not having been inured more grievously. True enough that the noble could have done with better protection though it had never been in the pan to end up in a melee scuffle, but then what really went entirely according to plan in battle? Well it was a discussion for another time, for now Reilley was a bit too woozy to worry too much on that matter though tried to spare a weak smile of appreciation for his advice. Jor spoke to Ganhoff and the archer reddened considerably, whether it was for current condition or something else was uncertain but the dhampir seemed to be growing a little uncomfortable, turning a blue eye away from them to gaze at the blurry ground. Mention was made of heading into the tavern and Reilley was content with that, following clumsily alongside Jor as the old man helped to support the remaining weight to get into the building.

As they stepped through the door into the dim room Reilley noticed Ora was already seat comfortably while the owners bustled about and a boy stood near her discussing from the sound of it, rooms. Managing to pay attention took some effort but the blonde scowled hearing the white haired girl trying to wheedle the boy out of his room just so that she could have a bed for the night. "Oralanalia!" the bowman straightened a little indignantly arm still over Jor's shoulder. "These folk have endured enough hardship, you'll not rob them of their own beds as well!" though the words were a little sluggish Reilley still managed to convey irritation at the eldest Talvos who glared coldly over. "We save their village and they want us to sleep in their barn?!" the idea of being a night without a bed obviously wasn't sitting well with her. The woman hurried over to help put Reilley down gently in a chair near the hearth while shifting glances between the siblings. "These are simple folk-" the youth began."Simple indeed!" Ora huffed, emphasizing the word to the rudest degree. "We would be grateful for the barn." the blonde gave up on trying to argue and looked to the woman while being settled down into the seat. "You truly give no thought to the needs of others." Ora remarked rather hypocritically, her tone expressing something that only Reilley would understand though right now was too wear to catch. Sinking back in the chair the noble closed a blue eye and sighed, trying to fend off the dizziness which seemed at least to ease a little with becoming stationary again.

[Star Shuutaa]

"It feels better biting down."
theme

Vorsryn gave the white-haired lady a sideways glance before she left for the tavern. Then a prompt 'tch' when she was out of sight.

The bandit gave him a cheeky, knowing grin, as if telling the dragon slayer to answer his own question. As with the small child, but with a lighter wrist, he tapped the bandit with the side of his blade, and that smug look promptly shattered into glittering air. A couple of gasps were heard from the villagers, but then they began to approach him. Some of the faces he recognized from before, having told them the way out through all the ruckus. With the edge of his cape, while they buzzed a bit around him, and wiped his blade down before sheathing it once again. That illusionist, he wouldn't be surprised if they crossed paths again. The villagers soon caught on quick that he wasn't one for speaking much, and decided to point him in the direction of the tavern.

As he wandered in that direction, some of the children began to chase after him, in awe and unconcerned with his personal space. He could hear parents apologizing to him, but he waved them off, allowing the children to follow him until he got closer to the tavern in question. When he spotted the others, the entourage decided that he would play with them later and ran off, finally letting him be. Even if he got volunteered into something by them. Children were like that, though, and it made him happy inside to see that despite all that happened to them, they could smile and be excitable.

The dragon slayer ducked and entered in not too long after Jor and Reilley, making his way over to a nearby chair and sitting himself down. Now that things had calmed down and Ora had spoke more at him than to him before, it seemed to do the job of curbing any tensions he previously had. He'd have to take care of it sooner than expected, though, but would wait for the right moment to do that. Vorsryn sighed and crossed his arms in front of him, leaning back in the chair to somewhat relax. Well, relax as much as one could with the siblings bickering to each other.

"At least you're lively enough to chatter like that." He commented toward Reilley, the corner of his lip curving to a small smirk. "Let's hope your headache doesn't get worse."

[Antoine C Redwood III]

I WANNA BE, singing and yelling
a song of burning passion,
our song of hope,
which won't despair to reality

~ What's a man have to do to get a drink around here; help rescue a village? ~

The man who charmed the Goddess of Luck

Ӽ♠Leader of The Band of the Lucky Hound, Samuel

*･❁●•*･❁●•*･♥ ●•*･❁●•*･❁●•*･♠ ●•*･❁●• ☾♕☽ •●❁･*•● ♣･*•●❁･*•●❁･*•● ♦･*•●❁･*•●❁･*

Samuel grinned, looking up and over his shoulder at his friend, nodding his head enthusiastically.
"Aye, seems I'm still quite the lucky b*****d, huh Lanza? Managed to keep my head on my shoulders once again. Nice that; better than any prize in this world." He chuckled at that, leaning slightly on his halberd, pole planted into the ground. He wasn't exactly wounded, but he was far from being in top condition. After battle fatigue was beginning to take it's toll, and coupled with the albeit small yet multiple wounds on him, he found himself desiring nothing more than a nice place to sit. He was going to have one hell of a time washing the blood out of his fur; he could already feel it drying and caking together in mats. And humans thought that they had it bad taking care of their hair. 'Hmph. Rubbish to that. They don't know true despair.' Samuel groaned inwardly at the thought of the effort he was going to have to go through. It certainly was not anything new; he had been through it countless times before, but he had decided that it was the second worse thing he hated about battles, second to all the death. And that stench. The smell hadn't gotten to bad just yet; the bodies hadn't exactly had the time to begin full on decay just yet, but the smell of blood was especially strong to his poor nose, and it was with effort that he didn't cover it, though he did make quite the dissatisfied face, wrinkling his nose distastefully.
"I suppose you're pretty lucky as well, Lanza, considering your noggin is still attatched as well, and it doesn’t seem to be cracked open like a pumpkin either.” He said, giving a toothy grin to the other man. He watched as Lanza went about snagging a couple of the bandits coin pouches, briefly checking on the few which he had already taken and attached to his belt. While a part of him would have liked to have left it for the villagers to help in the rebuilding of their town, most people didn’t do things for free, and while the Band wasn’t exactly always out for gains, the had to make money in order to stay in proper condition. There were things to buy, after all; metal for weapons and armor, food for the people and the pack animals and horses, cloth and linen and many other fabrics for clothing and blankets… ‘Running a mercenary troop is fair from cheap, that’s for sure…’ He’d use the gold sparingly on himself, and do what he could to bring most of it back for the Band. He smiled as Lanza thanked Sif, glad to see that Lanza, even if he was distrustful of her and her skeleton ally, still felt it necessary to be polite. When the other man suggested that they all gather in the local tavern, Samuel felt as if he hadn’t heard a better idea all night. He’d get to sit down, take off his heavy plate armor, and hopefully enjoy a nice pint of something that would numb the throbbing in his limbs. Returning his attention to the wounded elf briefly, he nodded to her in response to her claim of being able to walk, not wanting to ruffle anyone. Some people were awfully prideful when it came to standing on their own feet, and whether she was like that or not, he did not wish to get on anyone’s bad side. The beastman did however, keep an eye on her as she went along, leading the previously rescued village girl with her as they made their way toward the rest of the group, and subsequently, the tavern.

Which left himself and Sif standing in the opening of that alley on their own now. Samuel watched as the skeleton gave sif something, and then walked off to be about his own business...Reanimated skeleton business; whatever that was.
“Oh, he gave you a present, did he?” he said, laughing softly as he watched the skeleton go. “What a gentleman, ol bag of bones that he was.” Samuel glanced back to the tall woman, looking up at her and grinning, responded to her previous statement.
“Aye, I’ll admit the living skeleton was quite the sight, but I find it more unnatural to watch men consciously tear at each others bodies until one or both are dead. Asides from that, he didn’t come at me with that sword he took, so why would I need to distrust him?” His grin only managed to widen in its broadness, showing his two rows of sharp teeth. “Whether you can do that or not, I reckon you’re just fine, Sif. Besides, I’ve got a growing sword. That’s pretty strange too.” He gave her a small pat on her arm, as he couldn’t reach her shoulder.
“Now, what say you to going and getting out of these oppressive suits of armor, and taking a load off for a while? I’ll even buy you a drink.” With that, he gave her a wink and walked off ahead with the swagger of someone three times his age, casually spinning his halberd as he went while whistling the tune of a jig he had heard…Somewhere.

As he entered the tavern, he saw that a few of them had made it in already. He eyed the rather large red haired, glowey eyed fellow with the big sword, before he heard the rather harsh exchange between the small white haired girl, before the blond intervened on the villagers behalf and said that they would accept the barn. Samuel didn’t have a particularly preference for where they would be spending the night. He had slept in all sort of places, hard or soft, hot or cold, wet or dry, he’d probably manage to get some sleep somehow. But then, not everyone was used to such a life, so perhaps her demand for a bed was necessary? He did not know her, and to be truthful, he did not know any of them. The only ones in the group he had talked to were Jorgen , Ganoff, and the elven girl. Now that he thought about it, he had spoken to Sif more than he had anyone else, aside from Lanza. That made him laugh. With a deep sigh he took off his helmet and held it under his arm as he made his way to the counter, hopping up into one of the stools and placing the helmet on the counter left of himself.

“Alright, what kinds of ale do you have, good sir?” he inquired after the bartender who seemed to be doing something of more import than getting a beastman mercenary something to drink. The man actually gave Samuel quite the startled look upon seeing him, and Samuel surmised that he probably had not seen one of his kind before. Now that he thought about it, he had noticed the villagers who were currently in the tavern giving him some looks. None particularly hostile, mind you, but there was a mixture of curious looks and fearful looks alike. He decided to try and ease the tension, so he grinned widely at the man. This caused the bartender to stumble backwards in quite the fright upon seeing those vicious looking teeth that Samuel had, slamming into the rows of alcohol on the wall. The beastman raised his hands quickly in a soothing gesture.
“Now calm down mate. No need to soil yer breeches, yeah? I just want a drink is all…” The man looked as if he wanted to find the nearest sharp object and jab Samuel with it as soon as possible. Sometimes humans could be so...Human. He was glad that his current companions weren't like that, just eye balling him in all manner a way. The band had been quick enough to let him follow them as well, when he was younger. Some of them had been a bit apprehensive, and even now when new recruits joined, they were strangely cautious around Samuel, more than was necessary for your commander, especially considering the casual nature that the band usually kept outside of battle.He supposed it all just depended on who that person was, and what they had seen, or some philosophical tripe along those lines. With a sigh the mercenary propped his head up on his hand, elbow on the counter, and just stared at the trembling bartender while drumming his gauntlet clad fingers on the counter, waiting for the trauma to wear off.

I WANNA BE born on the star of dreams,
Then I ought to make it in time
By riding on tonight's blowing wind,
Let's go find the succession of this!

[Idiosyncratic Method]

"He bet me you'd brown yourself, whatever that meant." Sif could guess, but her knowledge of common's expressions was somewhat limited.
"But that is ... a very open-minded viewpoint." She was both impressed and happy knowing that such people existed. In fact, very few of these fighters seemed to bat an eyelash at her display. Were they the same, or had they simply not been paying attention? Sif supposed the answer would come soon, as Samuel invited her into the nearby tavern. This time, it was her whose cheeks flushed.
"Oh, I..." Truth be told, she was a tad embarrassed. While desperately hoping to be invited for food and drink, she felt awkward asking, and likely would have left if no one had offered. She felt a bit sheepish, as if Samuel had caught her in some strange lie,
"....Suppose." She finished meekly as he was already heading in.

Doddering after him, Sif had to duck more than her head just to enter. The door was only two meters to her almost three and, even on the inside, her head approached - and nearly cleared - the rafters. The simple iron-wrought chandeliers provided a very real danger of cuts and bruises, so the jotunn attempted to avoid them as well. With her entry, the tavernkeep forgot all about the humanoid hound in front of him, and almost readied something to throw at the giantess. However, she caught the motion and gave him a look of such sad resignation that he put it down, almost grudgingly, returning to Samuel.
Having managed to avoid taking a bottle to the head, Sif found herself a quiet corner to take a seat. She was too large for a chair, so the floor was really her only option. Unfortunately, she took a knee a little too hard,

Crunch!

With the sound of someone accidentally sitting on a clay pot, her left poleyn shattered under her weight, and as she turned and sat against the wall, her tassets and backplates did much the same. Having exhausted herself in the fighting, Sif could no longer maintain the mysterious black plate she wore; no longer such a mystery as the fissures spread throughout it. It chipped and flaked away, eventually dissolving in its entirety into the ether, leaving the necromancer in little more than her smallclothes. As it turned out, the rest of her skin was just as pale as her face. However, the fact that she was in nothing more than a shift and briefs seemed not to bother her at all. Either she was too tired or sexless to understand the implications, or she simply didn't care. Still, she attempted to make herself smaller by bringing her knees up to her chin and wrapping her arms around them, effectively hiding her washerboard chest from view. In the end, all she was hoping was that she wasn't in anyone's way. Sif had decided outside that this victory belonged to Samuel and his group.

[Kail Tribal]

Lanza nodded with a smile as Sif thanked him for his aid. "You're very welcome." he told her with a relaxed salute. However, he caught the confusion on her face as he more or less rallied the group to meet at the nearby inn, and cleared his throat, glancing to Samuel. "Ahem, Samuel..." he began, getting the beastkin's attention before looking back to Sif. "My apologies lass, you were, ah...deceived, earlier. You see, Samuel claimed leadership of our group in order to protect me, so that we might stand a better chance of thinning out the enemy's forces overall. Truth be told we don't really have a leader as of yet, but I can tell you right now, that lazy b*****d would want none of it." he explained, laughing as he pointed to Samuel with a cheeky grin on his face. "Think nothing of it, we've no intention of tricking you further. In all fairness, you were trying to kill us. Or at least, that was how things seemed at the time." he explained, trying to reassure the giant of a woman that they had no ill intent towards her.

Looking to Samuel the young swordsman grinned as he folded his arms. "Aye, looks like we've both lived to see, well..." he paused, smile fading for a moment. "...More battle." he finished in an uncharacteristically bitter manner, his blue gaze becoming mildly distant. However, he soon found himself giving a surprised snort of amusement as Sif bluntly told Samuel her skeleton minion had made a bet that he would brown himself as she put it, ironic considering he was the one who had been tentative of the walking pile of bones himself. Turning his head he caught sight of Oralanalia causing a bit of a fuss, again. His shoulders sank but an amused smile came to his face, if slightly weary from battle. Deciding to head over to the dainty woman he first turned his attention to the poor lad she'd just more or less attacked with words. Giving a friendly smile he placed a hand on the young man's shoulder. "Pay her harsh words no mind mate, we've all been through a fair bit today. Not to worry, we appreciate your hospitality, you could have just as easily refused to have us here." he assured the young man, ignoring the fact that they were all well-armed whereas the villagers weren't. "Take your time, I know you've been made to endure much as of late." he said gently, giving the boy a pat before leaving him to do as he would.

Looking upon Ora, he calmly took up a seat beside her. "Tell you what, I can ask around, see if I can't find you a bedroll. I'll even have it cleaned for you." he offered, being completely serious despite the smile of amusement upon his face. Leaning forward, he pulled his gaze from her, staring into the hearth as he clasped his gloved hands together, Sieg strolling over to sit between them and relax. "Look, I know it's more than a bit jarring. One moment you're home, the next you're in unfamiliar lands with unfamiliar people, doing hard work, some of which you never thought you'd wind up doing." he began, seeming to reflect on his own experiences as a mercenary. "But you'll get used to it. Praises of a simple life or sung all too infrequent, as they say." he paused, a moment of silence passing, before he gave a chuckle. "Of course, that's assuming you stick around. You could always take the reward and leave. But something tells me there's more at stake here than a simple bandit siege..." he admitted, frankly he didn't seem too happy about that, it meant that things may well have become complicated, and Lanza didn't like when things became complicated. Complication led to...well, further complications.

Turning his attention to Reilley, he gave a frown of concern. "Bloody hell mate, you didn't half take a beating. Shite...I'm sorry, it's my fault, if I'd chosen to fortify your side of things more, then perhaps.." he trailed off, deciding there was no good words could do now. "I'm really missing Luxia right now, her healing magic was something else..." he commented more to himself than anyone else, though Samuel was at least familiar with the sweet and kind healer, and certainly familiar with her overly protective twin brother, Luxio. Looking over at Vorsryn as he spoke his hope that the archer's headache didn't become worse, he nodded in agreement, then smiled faintly as he caught something about the red-haired man's expression. "Well bugger me, the stoic dragon slayer can crack a smile." he poked fun at him with a chuckle, before tilting his head towards Ora. "Now all we need is the ice queen over here to do the same and we'll just be the merriest band you've ever seen." he said in jest, then found himself looking to Samuel as he moved to get himself a drink. Seeming to ponder doing the same, he apparently dismissed the idea. "I shouldn't." he concluded. A mere moment later, he stood and walked to Samuel's side, apparently giving in rather swiftly.

"And one for me, mate. Actually, make it two." he requested as he leaned over the bar, having glanced over at Sif as she sat on the floor, the large woman looking to be a bit, for lack of better term, lonely. He caught on to the man's surprise at Samuel's presence, it made sense, his lot were rare in these parts, Lanza had just gotten so used to him that he'd forgotten that fact from time to time. "Not to worry, he don't bite. Might piss on the floor if he gets smashed enough, though." he joked with a laugh, patting the beastman's back as a good-natured gesture. More mercenary humor, he'd certainly endured his fair share of it during his time with Tempest Company, even as their leader. "Honestly though mate, he's a canny lad. If it weren't for him this village may not be liberated right now." he assured the wary bartender, who finally seemed to be put at ease and agreed to pouring some drinks for them. Passing one to Samuel, he then passed one to Lanza, followed by the second he'd requested. "Cheers, friend." he said politely, before turning and looking towards the others, raising a brow as he noticed that Sif was suddenly no longer clad in armor, and was instead wearing her smallclothes. However the young man didn't seem phased by it at all, especially given the fact that he had grown up with his mercenaries as family more or less, he was used to seeing a woman in her underwear - or less, for that matter. There had been the time he'd accidentally stumbled in on the girls when they were bathing, something Tal had never let him live down.

Nudging Samuel in the side, he snickered. "Oi, don't go gettin' too excited now." he teased the beastman with a good-natured grin, before calmly making his way over to Sif, leaning down to offer the blue-haired woman a drink. "Here." he began with a relaxed smile. "You chose to help us today, when you could have easily decided to do otherwise. I know it simply came down to our goals falling in line with one another, but the way I see it, that makes you one of us now." he told her, pausing to take a sip of his drink as he looked upon her with a friendly gaze. "Welcome to the crew." he told her as he took his seat again. "Say.." he started, giving something a moment of consideration as he looked back at the blue-haired jotunn. "I don't think I've properly introduced myself. Lanza Fenrir, leader of the Tempest Company. A pleasure. Oh and, just to clarify, this isn't Tempest Company. They're far more co-ordinated than this lot." he jested with a grin before lifting his mug to take a bigger drink from it.

Lanza's Theme - Bonds

Lanza's Battle Theme - Howl of the White Wolf

[Idiosyncratic Method]

If she was the ungrateful type, Sif would have said that she wasn't much for ale. Often she had taken the bitter taste of the gruit quite badly, so preferred unbittered beers - if they could be called that - wines and, more recently, spiced rum. Still, she knew better than to say anything, and took the gift graciously. On her honor, she would drink it all, even if the taste made her retch.
"Thank you," She said taking the tankard.

But it wasn't just for the drink.

As melodramatic as it would sound if she said it out loud, this man Lanza, Samuel, and even Redbeard, were among the first to ever accept her in these southern lands. It was strange to receive such warm treatment, especially considering so many factors, in a place like this. Stifling any tears in her ale, she took a draught before replying to his introduction,
"I am Sif, daughter of Angorn and Brij, and I command no men." Sif said succinctly, giving a weary smile to his jest.

[Antoine C Redwood III]

I WANNA BE, singing and yelling
a song of burning passion,
our song of hope,
which won't despair to reality

~ And then there were only small clothes. ~

The man who charmed the Goddess of Luck

Ӽ♠Leader of The Band of the Lucky Hound, Samuel

*･❁●•*･❁●•*･♥ ●•*･❁●•*･❁●•*･♠ ●•*･❁●• ☾♕☽ •●❁･*•● ♣･*•●❁･*•●❁･*•● ♦･*•●❁･*•●❁･*

Samuel had kept his place at the bar, simply staring at the bartender, until the man’s eyes were suddenly directed somewhere else. The beastman looked over his shoulder at what the bartender was staring at, and upon seeing Sif entering the bar, he flashed her that warm and welcoming smile again. He turned back to the bartender, and his look was a little less friendly.
“It’s rude to stare at women, mate.” he said in a somewhat serious tone that got the bartender staring at him again. Samuel decided that he could take the stares from the man, but he’d be damned if he let a women go about feeling uncomfortable. He could already tell that Sif was somewhat out of her element in such a setting, and he wasn’t going to let his efforts to make her feel more comfortable go to waste because some country bumpkin couldn’t keep his eyes to himself. Perhaps that was a bit harsh on Samuel’s part, but Sif had helped in saving these people. That had been her original intent from the beginning, from what he could tell. Just a bit of bad luck had gotten in her way, is all.
Lanza’s sudden appearance at the bar didn’t particularly surprise him. The man didn’t seem to like to drink but…Well, Lanza did like to drink. Not overly much, but he did enjoy it too, which was good for Samuel, otherwise he’d feel like he might have a bit of a problem. At the other mans joke, Samuel chuckled a bit.
“Aye, not unless I’m a bit to smashed indeed. Same goes for you as well, ay Lanza? What is your limit again; three pints a’fore your pissing in corners?” Samuel retorted, giving a cheeky grin. He smiled at Lanza’s praise of his efforts, but rolled his eyes a bit in a somewhat deflecting gesture.
“Yes, yes, I did my part. As did this mop haired sod next to me. He’s just as guilty of helping liberate this nice village, so treat him good, sir.” Samuel accepted the pint which was given to him after the bartender got his wits around the idea of a beastman, and Samuel was grateful for that, taking a small sip to start, just to wet his tongue and throat. He gave a very pleasant sigh at that, a smile spreading over his face. Yes, that was very good, even somewhat cold. He supposed those dead bandits at least knew how to take care of their drink, somewhat.

He nodded to Lanza when the black haired mercenary told him cheers, and Samuel had continued to sit there, beginning to wonder just where their newest blue haired ally had gone. The sudden crunch that cut the air harshly caught his attention, and he turned to see Sif sitting on the floor, missing a piece of her armor. It took him a moment to realize that she probably couldn’t exactly sit in one of the chairs of stools, and suddenly that made Samuel very self-aware of his height. He took another drink at that. Suddenly more of Sif’s armor cracked, and the beastmans eyes widened slightly as another piece fell off. And then more, and then more and then…

And then she was sitting in her small clothes.

Samuel hated himself for having stared for longer than necessary, even if it had been only a moment or two, before he was back to burying himself in his tankard of ale, red in the cheeks as he was. Now, Samuel wasn’t exactly the overly modest type. There was many a prank pulled in The Lucky Hounds ranks, stealing someone’s cloths while they were taking a wash was one of the more popular tricks. But women were less often in the ranks of the Band, especially women fighters. Oh, there were some to be sure, one of Samuel’s captains was a woman, who could nearly drink him under the table, but most of the women were simply camp followers; wives of men who had joined or simply women looking for work. Samuel really couldn’t understand why a woman would let her husband do something like join a mercenary band but, that wasn’t for him to decide. There were even a couple of little hounds about the camp sometimes as well, who were less intimidated by Samuel than most adults who saw him. Most of the time the little ones were kept in the middle of the camp, where the non-fighters were, with the fighting men encircling the camp in a ring formation, but occasionally they got away from their mothers –or fathers- and wandered into the fighters area. Samuel preferred keeping the children away from that lot; simply because they were bastards; drinking, gambling, and occasionally fighting with each other, though good naturally. On occasion Samuel had to send a little ones scurrying back to the follower’s camp when one of the men decided to try and teach children to wield a sword; which won that man a week washing laundry, much to the mirthful delight of the women who tended to do that.

The point of his unnecessary run through his thoughts on why he may have felt somewhat awkward about seeing Sif so modestly dressed was, there weren't many women who tended to be in the fighters camp. It consisted mostly of smelly men.

Samuel was shaken from his thoughts when Lanza jabbed him and made his joke, and the beastman grunted at him and frowned. ‘Well, Samuel-‘ He paused briefly when he remembered that he didn’t have a middle or last name. ‘Samuel-Samuel isn’t going to be embarrassed, that’s for sure!’ Taking another long swig from his mug, he hopped off of the counter, leaving a gold mark on the counter to pay for the drinks that he and the other man had procured, and made his way over to Sif and Lanza.

“Um…Sorry, Sif. I didn’t think about any issues you may face sitting at the counter; I’m just used to sitting there or at a table but…Well..” He decided to shut himself up and simply took a seat on the floor with her. Truthfully, he could have sat in a chair and would have been more on par with her height, but that seemed like cheating to him. So instead he was on the floor, still looking short as ever though they were both sitting.
“So…Since Lanza had to go and open his loose trap before I could handle it myself…I wanted to apologize for lying to you about being the commander of this lot. At the time when I thought we were adversaries, I would have said that the lead was Lanza, and I couldn’t go sending an enemy after one of my friends, you see. I didn’t lie about the Lucky Hound though…That is, somewhat unfortunately, mine.” He said, giving a slight chuckle before taking another drink while glancing about the room and waiting for Sif’s response.

I WANNA BE born on the star of dreams,
Then I ought to make it in time
By riding on tonight's blowing wind,
Let's go find the succession of this!