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- Posted: Thu, 29 Mar 2012 05:02:47 +0000
~Durash Dul~((I'm so sorry it took SO long for me to post! I ended up having to take a phone call and by the time it was done, dinner was ready and by the time that was done, it was LATE. Sorry! Anyways, I hope everyone has returned to the tavern, cuz that's where I'm gonna head for my entrance post! Yay! Finally here it is! smile )
The creak of the apothecary's door was drowned out by the cheers of returning victors, the small garrison of stormcloak soldiers was easily taken down by the many warriors and people of Whiterun. Durash looked around curiously, surmising the situation. Skyrim was a harsh home and there was always a battle to be had, between factions or families, it was all the same to Durash. This had not always been her home and sometimes she thought of her birthplace, but it was better not to.
She stepped out of the shop with a noticeable presence, letting the heavy door slam unceremoniously after her. Blood spattered the armor and spoils of war adorned the victors as they all headed into the tavern. The sun gleamed down upon her emerald skin, differentiating her from most others. She was not appealing to her kind, she was not as large as her mother nor did she look as fierce, but her mother had been her father's favorite wife and she his favorite daughter, before she killed him, of course.
Her father arranged a most advantageous marriage for her, it would benefit him and the stronghold greatly. It did not go well for Durash. The moment her future husband saw her, rage built up in his eyes. He was led to believe he would marry the daughter of a fearsome chieftain, the epitome of their race and the pitiful orc before him looked like some green-faced nord with pitifully tiny tusks! The young warlord was furious, this was to be his first wife? What sort of heir would this female produce? Weak boys and green, nordic looking girls, he assumed. He intended to kill her just after the marriage, perhaps blame it upon sickness of some kind, but he refused to have any heirs produced by that female, and he was right.
Durash, being much wiser than her youthful years, knew the intents of beings through the language of their bodies and the intentions of their eyes and his eyes intended murder. She intended to survive, for months she pleaded with her stubborn father, begging him for her life, but he told her she was being hysterical. Her betrothed came to the stronghold for a visit, Durash came down with a fever swiftly, sickness took over her frame. Her father apologizing to her future husband about her health, assuring him that even though she looked thin, she was very shapely and this sickness was a rare occasion. The young warlord seemed concerned, but when everyone left, Durash caught him slipping poisons in her medicines, slowly giving her some sort of sickness. He would not leave her bedside and most of the others thought it was sweet to see such a caring companion by her side.
Her father was not swayed by her pleas, believing her to be delirious from sickness and she was often silenced by her caring fiancee, saying she needed rest. The time came for him to leave, he left his final large dose of poison in her medicine, believing her to be ignorant of his evil nature, he left her with a gentle touch to her cheek. She nearly died, but overcame the poison that her father had unknowingly forced her to take and when she recovered she was told it was just in time. Her wedding was to take place in two weeks at midnight. For the first time, fear rose up in her chest and for the final time she made a plea to her father, the chief. She burst into his chambers with a ferocious temper, demanding that he finally listen to what she had to say and understand what she had to say. In his stubborn nature he nodded his head and stuck up his nose, letting the words she said and 3 hours slip right through his ears. When she was finished. "I'm sorry Durash, but you will marry him. You are just still ill, you have been speaking wildly. You will feel better soon and be happy about the marriage and moving to a new stronghold!" She refused and his face took a serious turn.
"You WILL marry him. Your husband's family would have my head if you do not! It would be an insult to them if you reject him! That alone is enough for me to have to pay a bloodprice!"
She yelled back. "I will NOT!" Her father looked at her with a scary flicker of his gaze. "I could kill you instead, your sister would make a beautiful apology." Durash knew that her father was thinking to save his life.
Her brother ran into the room in time to see their father's sword miss Durash's midsection and his head fall to the floor shortly after. Durash's axe dripped with blood, her heart raced and adrenaline pumped through her legs as she looked into the eyes of her brother. The new chieftain of their tribe, he had already tried her and found her guilty in his head, her bloodprice would be death. She jumped through the window, shattering it and rolling into a thin bed of glass, cutting her jade-like skin as she rolled towards safety. She got up quickly and dusted the majority of the glass from her fox-fur armor, pulling some shards from her skin as she ran, she made her way towards the cities of the outsiders. The cities of men.
That had been nearly a year ago. Durash sipped at a potion she just concocted and made her way into the tavern. She slipped between a group of men letting them hold the door and tipped the potion bottle to drink it's contents and throw the glass into a bin, it shattered nicely. The firepit in the center of the tavern gave off a warm glow, curling smoke rose to the ceiling and hot flames crackled in it's embrace. The young orc's shapely figure cast a shadow much larger than herself and dancing with the shadows upon the walls. She smiled to look upon it, the hourglass of her form casting a timeless silhouette that Dibella herself would envy.
Durash walked up to the bar, ordering a large mug of mead and giving the tender some pieces of gold as she took her mead. She made her way towards the fire, happy to feel it's flames near her skin and stare into it's crackling songs. She sat down and sipped at her mead, glad to be warm and with a good drink.
((YAY! Finally posted! Ok, now I'm excited! My first posts always take the longest.))
~The chieftain had a willful daughter that wouldn't wed. "I could kill you instead." He had said. She promptly cut off his head, now her brother wants her dead and put a pretty bloodprice upon her head. She could kill you too, should you speak a word I just said. Shhhhhhh!!! Blood upon your head.~