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 Posted: Tue Jun 12, 2012 10:02 am
Oh, she knew that normally this kind of treatment wouldn't fly for a highblood. That's exactly why she did it. Bringing down their hoity-toity selves was a favorite past-time of her's, but it was hard to do when that was a good way to get yourself killed. So she always took the opportunity when it arose. Militant orders were always a good cover to jab a highblood or two.
In response to his growling she stuck out her tongue. Wow, was that a yawn she just heard? Really, this guy was unbelievable. Being exhausted from the fight was understandable, but yawning? Now that was just poor form. She was able to keep her giggles in her own head as he stretched and popped his spine. He sure was taking his time getting up.
As he asked for help she rolled her eyes before firmly grasping his hand and pulling him up. "I trust you can line up without me holdin' your hand, right? I gotta go round up the rest of these lazy bones." she said with a grin.
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Posted: Fri Jun 15, 2012 4:40 pm
"Yeh, yeh... Juss' one thin' then..." He grumbled back as he clasped his hand around her wrist and finally rose to his feet. Instead of letting go, he used the momentum to swing around and simultaneously tug on her arm and shove her forward to send her downwards just as a little payback.
"Dohn' step on people. S'not nice." He added, extending the neck of his keytar to her to help her back up again.
(bluh, short post)
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Posted: Fri Jun 15, 2012 11:38 pm
Caught by surprise Minist barely had enough time to catch herself, but catch herself she did. Though, that might not have been the best thing. She cried out in pain, both from the jolt to her shoulder and the scrapping against her burned palm. She quickly rolled over on her back and hissed in pain. Oh she wanted to kick him in the shins and knock him back down on his butt for that! Sitting up and nursing her shoulder she glared at him. Highbloods could always get away with this. She was just doing her job. Never mind as a lowblood she deserved everything she got and probably more and she could have avoided all of this with a different technique to wake him up. In all fairness if she had tried doing that to someone like Frossa she would have gotten the proper retribution. She was rather lucky, truth be told. He was even offering help back up. So she said nothing and grabbed onto the neck of the keytar. Heaving herself back onto her feet she turned away from him and trotted off to round up some other poor troll still lolling around.
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Posted: Sat Jul 07, 2012 12:55 pm
The redblood was marching through the ranks, doing a far less friendly imitation of Minist's 'up and at em' routine. Anyone who looked like they were relaxing, or on the verge of going to, was give a sharp prod, an even sharper look, and a ' you don't look very injured to me' eyebrow raise. Her complete lack of any sympathy was emphasized by the clicking and scuttling noises that began to gradually filter out of the darkness. More than a few of the younger hatchlings that the trolls had fought off during the battle peered at them from over broken eggshells, and the cavernous area began to feel less and less empty as time passed. As she passed through the groups, gradually stirring the tired children into activity, one of her hands caressed a small piece of root, broken off inconspicuously from the plant when it was passed over. It wasn't much, but the plant was potent enough for even a small section of its bulb to be enough. She wondered, briefly, which of the horrific creatures who's nests she had sent the naive blueblood running through, would be the one to kill the girl. It was a pity that the remedy would have to have a delayed arrival back at camp, but if the result was ridding the world of one more highblood scum, she would gladly pay the price.
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Posted: Sun Jul 08, 2012 2:49 am
holy s**t look at this ******** novel
Sarcel was none the wiser.
She had been given a task, rather, she had taken charge and stood up to a task at hand. Deep down, the blueblood girl wanted nothing more then to prove herself. Prove she wasn't a failure, that she wasn't completely pathetic, that she was worthy of the blue hue that embellished the winged shoe displayed on her shirt. She could of chosen not to take up the offer, and maybe part of her wished she hadn't, but here she was. She would stop for nothing, running as fast as she could (Which was pretty fast, no doubt!). She would complete the task, receive the praise, and maybe earn herself marginal respect.
Yes, she was doing this for respect. She wanted to be recognized from Sir-- both of them, from everyone. She wasn't the meek little blueblood like her disposition seemed to declare, rather, she was just as able as every single other troll existing on Alternia. Not even just the ones of her caste, the highbloods, the lowbloods; just to be aware she was competent was enough to sate her restless desires.
Needless to say, she had been running for a while now. It was probably a good thing she had been rejuvenated from the trinket earlier, because she wouldn't of been able to run even a fraction of what she had already done. Despite that, her legs were starting to feel sore again, the effects of the healing light starting to ebb. Still, she wasn't going to stop, not if she could help it.
The entire race depended on her, after all. That wasn't a fate she could take lightly.
And so she continued to run, eyes following the dim red right that (red)Sir had told her to chase. It was strange, considering they hadn't come from this way, so she assumed the most logical thing: a shortcut. Why they wouldn't take the shortest way in was beyond her, but she had to assume the adult had her reasons. She wasn't in any position to raise questions, and even if she was the opportunity was long gone.
Thus, it was only Sarcel Cincil and sounds of gifted boots against marble smooth cave floor, the sounds of hard breaths echoing off the walls. She couldn't stop, but how much longer would it be until she made it out? Of course, it had taken a considerably long time to make it in here, so she figured she would be running for a while yet. Not that it mattered; this was her task now, and she was going to complete it.
Even so, the endless winding tunnels of the cave system were starting to wear on her tired adolescent mind. She was still following the trail, so she knew she wasn't lost. So long as she didn't stray too far from the trail, she would be fine. Still, how long was this supposed to last anyway? Trollian technology sure was an interesting concept...
There's another sound that disturbs the sounds of her footsteps and breaths, and it catches her off guard. Slowly slightly, the blueblood almost halts entirely if not for the words don't stop echoing in her head. The soft yellow luminescence of her eyes quickly glanced around her surroundings as she tried to pick out the peculiar sound she had just heard. There wasn't any real resemblance to it, other then the fact it sounded like movement. Quick, fast movement...
Her fingers itch for her gun, and she almost slaps herself mentally; why wasn't she holding onto that thing right now, anyway? Hastily reaching for the weapon, she held the gun in one hand and the plant in the other. It wasn't really conventional, given that it was fairly difficult to fire a shotgun with one arm since it had so much kick to it, but she would make do when she crossed that road.
And it was definitely a road she would have to cross on incredibly short notice. Setting another foot in front of the other, she readied herself to break into another sprint when she heard the quiet noise again. A clatter of pebbles and a soft trail of dust was enough to have her avert her eyes from the red line.
It occurs to her then, that she might not be alone. A second tendril of dust confirms it; a small whisper descending from the ceiling. She looks up.
Sarcel's gaze is met and reflected back eightfold. Clinging to the ceiling is a familiar target; one of the webbeasts her and her group fought not so long ago.
Mistake number one: she stops.
Absolutely petrified, the small blueblood stares wide eyed. The heathen drops from the ceiling, and it finally clicks hey moron, you have a gun and she aims the weapon at the white beasts general area. Ah, but, firing with one hand was a bad idea, remember? No matter, gripping the gun she fires the rain of buckshot at the beast. Of course, it's not enough. It was difficult enough dealing with one of these as a team of four.
Determination; she wasn't going to let this stop her, then what would that say?
Rather, while the shot did some harm to the beast, the kick back was tremendous as she thought; almost loosing her footing, the creature now stands before her and the exit. She had one more shot before she has to reload, and that was something she really couldn't afford right now. She had to make this s**t count, anyway, but what exactly could she do? Backing up as the beast slowly encroaches on her, she knows she's low on time before it pulls something nasty. She could shoot it again, but it might not be enough to kill it, but maybe the shot would be enough to distract it...
Right, a distraction could work. Remembering the dust and such from the ceiling, she humors the idea of shooting the roof over their heads. Perhaps falling debris could be enough, even though the ceiling itself looked to be fairly sturdy. Still, it was her only option, she had to think fast!
And so she tips the twin barrels upright, ready... one...!
The gunshot is a much bigger fanfare than the result. While it did enough to send a small rain of rock down, it was hardly the distraction she was looking for. The beast was instead sent into a startled frenzy, legs scuttling against the ground as it screeched out a horrendous ear-splitting noise.
She briefly wondered if it was loud enough to where the others would hear. The sound of failure resounding in her ears, in their ears, in Sir's ears-- both of the sirs, that is, but more so hers.
It's an abstract thought that she doesn't get to think about for very long, or perhaps too long. The slow motion effect, the beast charging at her... She's fast, but... is she fast enough?
The beasts rag proved to be a useful tool against it, avoiding the charge by the skin of her teeth, avoiding it when it slashes out. She needs to stop being pushed back though, she's being pushed every so further away from her goal, her destination, and she can't have that... she can't... The plant in her hand feels like dead weight, just like her gun, but what weighs her down the most is her inadequacy. She's not Sarcel Cincil, she's Pathetic, that's just how it was, and that's just how it was going to be. She was going to die down here in the caves where her senseless, doomed-from-the-start journey began. It was tragically fitting, almost beautiful in sadness.
It was a shame she wasn't about to give in to her pessimistic thoughts. Such a tragedy was destined to never be, it seemed... or did it?
But enough of that story. Next chapter.
The white heathen is still angry. Lucid rage dripping from it's fangs like the webbeasts venom. She can't continue to let herself get pushed back like this, can't afford to waste precious time. The only way was to push forward, seeing as the creature gave her little time to actually reload. So clear, in fact, she decided rather quickly.
She was going to do this or die trying, literally.
Gripping the gun and the vital plant, gripping the fear in her mind and the scream in her throat, she races forward. For a second it's like she really is playing the hero, winning. This is her story and she will turn out okay. Everything looks bleak, but it always works out okay, that's how that goes, isn't it? Hero's never die. Long as this battled survived, she too must stay alive.
Some books had bad endings too, though. What just was she thinking there, anyway? Being dumb and bold and reckless like that. Racing towards the beast like that. She couldn't take it head on, not that she was trying to take it on, per say...
Of course, it had hit a lot harder then she thought, and writhing on the ground was an experience she had a bit much of the past night. The longest damn night of her life. The beast struck her down like the insolent child she was.
Fear was clouded under her pain and indignity. No, that was a lie, all she was feeling was the fear. All she was thinking was the rank fear; it was a wonder she was still holding the plant, but then she had to assume that was all she was clinging too. Her goal and determination were quickly fading along with the situation. Everything was slowly becoming incredibly bleak, and it was disgusting.
Her she was, struggling upwards. The webbeast had knocked to the side like a ragdoll. It was a wonder she wasn't bleeding, but that would probably be changed soon.
Or not soon enough. Why wasn't the creature attacking her yet? She sits up, dares to look up, almost screams bloody murder when she see's the thing there, idle, frantically looking around, annoyed and angry. Thrashing and devolving back into a rampage; it even looks directly at her before it leaves quite the opposite as it had come; screeching back into the dark cavern before vanishing behind a large crevice. Beasties don't have the same mental capacity to have a change of heart like that though, why did it just leave.....
All the same, she cal allow herself a sigh of relief. Way to close to death then she'd ever want, she looks around for her gun, seeing the object clattered on the ground a few feet away. Rising to her feet, shaken but otherwise unharmed, she walks over to retrieve the (sometimes) trusty instrument.
And almost screams of course, when she doesn't see the hand reaching for the weapon.
The most bizarre of sensations, seeing a place where you should be but well, you're not there. Sarcel doesn't react too kindly to it (but when did she ever react favorably to something). The panic spreads, but there's also a sense of wonder as she reaches down and does eventually pick up the gun, eyes spreading when it too vanishes under the mysterious veil that seemed to occupy her.
No no no this didn't make any sense at all. Making sure the other object in her hand was in fact a plant, she racing back along the path towards the dim red stream still hanging loft in the air. She just needed conformation, something, anything.
A stagnant pool of water.
Perfect really. The blueblood girl payed no mind to the casual drip from the rock formations above, only looking into the water as if it held the answers to everything. At first blaming it on the darkness from the cavern, she eventually comes to terms with it: she doesn't see her reflection. She isn't really there, and yet she is? Her own touch- the feeling of her hand on her forehead- seems real enough anyway, so why can't she see it?
It hits her that she's invisible, but how? It never happened any other time she got beat up, attacked or chased. Why was she turning invisible now?
It could be dealt with later. She was already far behind schedule on her job, and she had to get moving again. She just hoped she would have this all figured out by the time she made it to the exit.
Today was easily the longest, worst, and most... exciting night in her life.
All the same, she couldn't wait for it to be over and done with.
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