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 Posted: Sat Apr 17, 2010 9:06 am
Too proper for his own good, Sloane took note of the boy's preference. Manners towards those younger than he in appearance was something he always held--possibly a bit backwards to societies standards, but it was his belief that the children will inherit the earth and so they would have done nothing to deserve any ill will. The adults, however, were ever so fun to toy with. Only his Lady would be spared his antics, for the most part.
"And they shall not have him," Sloane assured, giving a nod of affirmation just before his eye gave way. He acknowledged Chauhn's worry--everyone who encountered him did the same--though he did not reply until the boy had answered him the following question of location. "My heritage is rich," he chuckled, wiping up the last of it that had traveled down his chin, "I am unable to control my blood flow. Wounds occasionally appear, then disappear. There is no need to fret; the pain is minimal and it soon ceases, but you must be wary not to let my blood touch you. I would hate to accidentally infect a young one."
Looking over his shoulder, the Plague's swirled eyes narrowed as he scanned the landscape. It was all down hill from their current point, but the boys clothes would not last properly. A trading route or a trading outpost, either would suit the boy well and if he hailed from Imisus, then all the better. Nodding, Sloane stretched his arms above his head and turned his back to face the boy, crouching down, "Atop my back, Chauhn, we will arrive safely to the trading route. I know where it lies, and it is not far, but you must keep warm and your boots dry." It was evident that they would have some sort of leaking problem, with how patched and old they appeared. Even if they didn't, the boy had a long travel ahead of him and if Sloane could make it so the boys feet weren't covered with blisters by the end of it, he would certainly try his damnedest.
Once the two were properly situated, Sloane's arms tucked beneath the boy's legs for added support, he hopped down from the broken carriage and their trek began through a sea of seemingly endless white. There was a rare tree, dead or evergreen, or the occasional outcropping formed of rocks, but nary a landmark stood in their path. Still, it seemed Sloane knew where he was going and he kept on a straight path, not faltering or tripping within the nearly knee deep snow. Minutes ticked by in silence, concentration on the "path", but thoughts were swirling and mingling within the Plague's mind and he finally had to speak; "I believe the only way to keep you and your Clurie safe would be to present your status of Grimm to someone... in particular." If his Lady were present, she would certainly nudge the boy towards the Mages but he was from Imisus, home of the Sciences! He shouldn't have been here whatsoever and he clearly longed not to stay. "There is a group in your home of Imisus. They may be able to provide you with protection. If not, the Fellowship's doors are always open to you."
The offer was sincere but even to Sloane it sounded almost too good to be true. He wondered how the humans felt when they were presented with this choice; he never had one, he had been born right into the Mages, defending his Lady, but what of those who had to go along with their Keeper's decision? It was a wonder to him, these thoughts, and he would be sure to have a discussion about it with her upon his return. He still needed to acquire the fire wood but that could wait until the boy was planted somewhere safely that he could find his way home from.
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Posted: Sat Apr 17, 2010 11:33 am
Listening closely to the elaboration on the spontaneous bleeding, Chauhn quietly tucked away the important fact of keeping himself away from the blood. Infect? With the same disease that ravaged the world? Chauhn wouldn't let himself come near it if he could help it. Despite his apprehensiveness about touching the Plague, he still felt concern for the simple fact that hurt would spontaneously appear on him, causing discomfort. If this happened to Sloane, then what kind of thing happened to Adal? What would happen to...?
His thoughts were quickly distracted when the taller man ordered him to move, and Chauhn nodded wearily and did as he was told. He released his protective hold on the bag of ashes upon his breast and instead pulled the fur tightly around his shoulders. Judging by the white expanse of the landscape around them, it was going to be a long journey and the last thing he wanted to do was freeze to death atop Sloane's back.
Ridding himself of a long shiver, Chauhn laced his meagerly covered arms around the Plague's neck, holding himself tight and tucked to the other's back, his legs pinched about his waist and the bag of ashes caught between the press. In his gut a pang sparked to life, digging against his insides. The last time he ever rode on someone's back like this was when his older brother was still alive, laughing and flouncing around their home's small front yard with Chauhn on his back, not caring that he was covered with smoke and sweat or that the little sibling upon his back was covered, head to toe, with soot and ash. Chauhn remembered that he had to hold on tight then, otherwise his brother's rambunctious bucking and bouncing would've thrown him off into the bushes. He almost wished he had held on tighter, because it seemed that as soon as Chauhn let go that his elder sibling began to slip away, dragged underneath the darkened cowl of the plague.
Gulping, Chauhn nodded to the kindly thought of his savior, "Yes, sir, thank you, sir," he managed to bubble, tucking his head underneath the fur as much as possible. "Are y'sure you don't 'ave anythin' else to do? It's mighty kind of you to guide me, sir, ah hope ahm not disrupting somethin'." But he was quickly reaffirmed otherwise. Relaxing, still reeling from the events of the day past, Chauhn let himself sink against Sloane's back, his cheek upon his shoulder. Beyond his somewhat constricted view, all he could see was white. The sky was a light grey behind them, melting into the white of the landscape, but as they moved, he watched as the clouds grew darker and darker. It wasn't the change in day that brought on the darkening, but rather the impending storm that lurched above head, readying itself for a torrential downpour of white. Quiet, allowing the Plague to focus on the "path", Chauhn rested his eyes. They burned with weariness.
Sometime later, a fraction of a way on their journey, Sloane began to speak and Chauhn woke himself up from a small nap to pay attention to him. His eyes blinked lazily and he licked his chapped lips, gathering the offered advice. "...Ahll do anythin' to keep Clurie safe. Anythin'." he said matter-of-factly. When the Plague continued, Chauhn perked his ears a bit more, and at length confessed, "Ah...Ah want to be home 'n Imisus. The butcher 'n' the breadmaker, the fish dealer and the wine seller, they know me there. Ah can make my means 'n' m'way there. Ahll...Ahll find this group, though, 'n' ask if'n they can 'elp me. If they don't, ahll...Ahll come back to you 'n the Fellowship. If'n ah can find work t'give for m'stay.
"But...Who is this other group? 'N' where can ah find them? What would ah say and do?" Chauhn asked, adjusting himself on Sloane's back. "What do ah 'ave to give?"
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Posted: Tue Apr 27, 2010 12:13 pm
The Plague shook his mane of red hair, a soft grin in place that revealed only the tops of his teeth; if it weren't for his swirled eyes, he might have looked completely human just then. The task at hand, in Sloane's mind, was to get this young Grimm to safety; fire wood was one thing, and it would be retrieved, but a young one and a Grimm lined up to first place of importance as far as he could judge. "No disturbance. This is my duty," and though a lie, he vehemently believed it so.
Whatever path they were on, it seemed to drag forever, an endless sea of white on white; the ground was white, so much that nearly any gray rock face was barely visible, and the white sky above, it was quickly turning grey, rumbling with the promise of dry thunder and heavy snow fall. A quick sniff to the air, and Sloane was certain hail would be coming as well. A dangerous storm, making his mission all the more imperative.
Chauhn's words of protection for his small Plague warmed Sloane, his grin spreading to that far less human size. Yes, this was a proper Grimm here, one who wasn't eager to raise a Plague just for the status of it, nor the possible information he would achieve from study, no, he was very similar to his Lady... when she was younger.
"A large Council, underground and far spread, they are stationed in your Imisus and are eager to take in any Grimm. They and the Fellowship are in an... understanding. If any one of them treats you or your Clurie improperly, they will answer to us, but do not fear--they are men of science and their goal is only to assist through fact and study. They will help you, too, if you ask for it." Being so far from the hub of science, and growing in a magic filled and treacherous landscape, Sloane had no idea of what to expect for the small boy, hadn't the foggiest idea of how to prepare him, but he was certain that they would not do him any wrong nor lead him astray intentionally.
With a heft of his weight, Sloane lifted Chauhn a bit higher atop his back, taking some strain off of his arms. A contented sigh left him before he continued; "You give what you are able; they require assistance, but they mostly require Plagues. I have no doubt that they will accept you with nary a restriction, but if they are anything similar to our sort, they will ask a favor. Something within your capabilities, but likely still challenging." He remembered all that his Lady had been put through by a more sane Waldgrave, the moth eaten bat; task upon task, but his Lady had completed them all as was required and rose to become her most trusted Adviser.
"The sciences are all over Panymium, but hide away in the catacombs. Search through there, it is where they conduct their resear--" a dull plunk resonated as a small white rock fell from the sky, knocking against the top of Sloane's head. His movement ceased and his red bi-sclera'd eyes rose to the sky; within the dark clouds, flashes of light, and down came soft flakes of snow. The storm was beginning, and the small rock was the precursor.
Hail indeed.
Kneeling down in a hurry, Sloane urged Chauhn off his back for a moment before raising up his furred cloak; "Get beneath it, your head will be protected." As he said this, his own armor grew and morphed, wrapping around his head as a helm before stiffening into a solid shape. The visor was one similar to contemporary knights; a useful flip, one more suited to this situation than the frightening monster helm he had sported previously.
As soon as the boy was situated comfortably, Sloane heaved off of his knees, stepped, and then ran. It was almost as if this annoyed the storm, as the rumbles above finally began making noise while their bolts landed far off, miles away. Still, the snow was falling faster, thicker, and now a more steady fall of hail pelted against their bodies. At this pace, it would still take a while to arrive at their destination, but much faster than before.
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Posted: Tue Apr 27, 2010 1:21 pm
Listening intently to the instructions provided to him, the young Grimm atop Sloane's back tightened his grip, watching as the dark clouds overhead rumbled in blatant threat. The Council of Sciences, the Fellowship of Mages....Chauhn didn't know heads or tails of these groups or their relations. What he did know, and was coming to understand, was that they were to play an important role in his life, whether he wanted it or not. He knew it then, a seed of tension placed in his gut, that it was going to grow in importance throughout the onward marching of the days, as Clurie came back to him. It was for Clurie that Chauhn would do this, and only for him. As an urchin, he knew his way around the city. He knew how to earn his wages and how to spend them on meager things that he needed. Chauhn understood how to save up for new boots and he knew which places to go to get worn clothes that didn't need paying for. He knew all of the in's and out's, it was how he made his way. He could survive easily like that for as long as he needed.
...But now with Clurie...
Chauhn had to make sacrifices to protect his little brother and protect him he would. Anything would be done for him and his safety, Chauhn made that promise the moment he discovered movement in his bag of ashes. If it meant abandoning his comfortable lifestyle living off the heels of the great, then so be it. If he had to venture these catacombs, sign his vagabond freedom underneath a higher group's will, then so be it. Chauhn would do it, and do it he will.
He made sure to tack that duty to the top of his list, underneath "get home". As soon as he stepped back onto the familiar streets of his coastal hometown, he would search for this Council of Sciences. Sleep and rest, food and drink, could come after he had found safety underneath the hands of the Council.
"Ahll find them, these men of Science," Chauhn said, his voice strong and determined despite the shake and tremor in his limbs, "If'n you trust 'em, Mister Sloane, ah can trust 'em too. 'N' ahll work very hard, 'm a good worker, sir. Ahm not afraid t'do any kind of work, ahll do anything, I will. You work for whot you need, that's whot my brother always told me, he did."
But as he made his long string of promises, Sloane was interupted by the plunk of a large hail stone nearby. chauhn's eyes widened at the size of the warning volley, and he glanced up into the darkening curl of the heavens, the glint of lightning in the storm's smile. Wiggling himself free from Sloane's back, the urchin sunk thigh deep into the snow and dragged his legs forward so that he huddled underneath the offered cowl beneath Sloane's arm. After a moment did he realize that he was meant to climb back on. So, stretching his limbs a bit, Chauhn situated himself once more on the Plague's back, this time tucked underneath his cape of fur. Then suddenly, he lurched forward underneath him, moving into a quick trot through the snow. Chauhn found it hard to hold on, considering his awkward position, but he tightened his thighs nonetheless.
As they ran, Chauhn tried his best to keep his focus on just holding on, but the minutes dragged on and his limbs grew weary. The pelt of the hail against the fur thudded dully against his skin and the cold bit through the flap of the cape. His fingers were numbing and it was steadily getting harder and harder to hold on.
"Mister Sloane!" he managed to squeak, his throat dry from the cold air, "Ahm fallin'!"
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Posted: Tue May 11, 2010 4:00 pm
He could feel the boy's weight on his back shifting in a bad way with each step he took; the young body bounced against his armor, likely not comfortable in the least with the added fun of hail beginning to crash down on them. He called out, but he could just barely hear him. Still, Sloane slowed his pace, knelt down in the run and hefted the boy higher up with one mighty push, tucking the fur cloak beneath the boy as a cushioned seat to assist keeping him in place.
"Apologies, Chauhn! We'll be there soon and then you can seek proper shelter!" he attempted to assure the boy as he picked up his pace once more. Here and there, he would stop for a few moments to allow the Grimm to get situated, eventually just asking Chauhn to tuck his legs in completely so that there were no air pockets. This still did not work completely well, so instead, when they were just a little less than three quarters of the way there, Sloane knelt down beneath some trees for cover and removed the cloak and the boy with it. "I've a better idea..." At least, he hoped it was a better idea.
Asking Chauhn to stand still for a moment, Sloane draped the fur cloak over him in a way that the top of his head and shoulders were covered, and the width would easily wrap around his entire body like a blanket. That done, with a short warning of what he was about to do, he picked Chauhn up over a shoulder and began tucking the cloak in so that his legs and feet were completely covered and slid the boy into a comfortable grasp between both arms. It must have been such a sight to see, if there had been anyone to see it; a towering and intimidating knightly Plague carrying a young man bundled up like a baby in furs.
Pellets of hail still fell, though they were beginning to clear up. The skies, however, remained dark and brooding, flashes of light seeming to draw closer with every breath and their low, foreboding rumbles following the two males on their journey. How long had it been since they first encountered one another and started their trip? It couldn't have been more than a few hours, and it was likely that the Base was going to be in a tizzy when he returned, firewood or not. Of course, he intended to return with, rather than not.
Finally, after so long, something changed in the distance and down a long hill of perfect white, there was a small clearing--as clear as it got in Shyregoed, anyway. Just past it was an incredibly tall structure, perhaps even larger than the base, home to many a Mage and member of royalty. "Ah," Sloane sighed with relief, "This must be the castle... Surely you can find a carriage from here," he hoped, looking at Chauhn with a wide grin. Yes, he certainly hoped the boy would get there safe and sound.
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Posted: Tue May 11, 2010 4:35 pm
Just when he thought he wasn't going to be able to hold on much longer, Chauhn found himself jostled and lowered once more onto the ground. For going short distances, riding upon Sloane's back was a perfect and easy method, but when it came to long stretches of running...The back was not such an easy place to cling to. He tried hard to follow Sloane's commands, tuck his legs up, tighten his grip around the other's neck, hunch his shoulders, everything, but, when it came down to it, they simply couldn't continue, not without stopping every two minutes to readjust. When they hunkered underneath a scraggly patch of windswept trees, Chauhn was stiff and sore, slipping off of the Plague's back like a sack of potatoes. He was in the process of trying to reawaken his body, stretch, yawn, and shake himself awake, straggling away from the safety of the tightly knit branches when Sloane asked him to be still.
"Yes, Mister Sloane," the urchin said, trying to keep his teeth from chattering with each word. To say that he was bothered when the sword-based being started wrapping him up in the fur cloak, bundling him up so that his arms folded tight across his chest, was unfounded. Chauhn was nothing more but surprised. To be carried like this was a lot less effort on his part, since all he had to do was remain still, and that was precisely what Chauhn needed. He was able to close his eyes for a few moments as the world sped by in a blur of white and grey. Weariness was creeping up on him despite his best efforts to stay awake, and being held like this appealed to his younger nature and his desire to drift off into the dark realm beneath his eyelids. He needed time to heal, time to rest... But he knew he wouldn't be granted it for some time yet. Not until he was truly and honestly safe. As safe as he felt now with Sloane, savior and knightly Plague, he was still without a place to curl up and rest, still in an unfamiliar land. The Clemmings boy couldn't afford to sleep. He had to take care of Clurie. Shifting his arms underneath the bundled fur cloak around him, Chauhn cupped his hand over the center of his chest where Clurie rested in the pouch upon his neck.
Biting his lip so that he warded away the bleariness of sleep, Chauhn fitfully blinked his eyes. They had been running for some time already and Chauhn had woken himself just in time to hear Sloane's voice through the muffle of the fur cloak.
They were finally at the castle?
Squeezing his eyes tightly shut, Chauhn opened them again to blink at the tall shape in the distance. Sure enough, fighting back the all encompassing white, there was a town, just below the hill. To say that Chauhn's heart did a somersault of joy would be an understatement. He gave an excited kick of his legs, accidentally loosing one of his legs from the cloak, and gave a rosy-cheeked smile back at Sloane. "Mister Sloane, sir, ah can certainly do tha', sir. Certainly. Ah can walk from 'ere, sir, if'n y'don't mind. Yous been carryin' me for so long, y' must be tired 'n' all. 'N' you 'ave t'go all the way back. Ah cannot bother you anymore, Mister Sloane. Yous been so kind already. Ah can walk."
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Posted: Fri Jun 11, 2010 10:51 am
Through all of the mess of being kidnapped, rescued, and carried around this way and that by such a strange fellow, Chauhn's willingness to please was undaunted, so it seemed. His ever chipper--or at the very least content--attitude constantly pulled Sloane's lips this way and that, from a smile to a frown in an instant, then back again. Even now, a country away from his home, the boy was filled with determination and assurance that he would make it back alright and with naught a worry.
"I must admit, young Chauhn..." the Plague began, standing tall and looking towards the boy's next destination still a short distance away, "I am filled with worries, for you and your brother." So young, the both of them, in such a torrential place. And what if it were to happen again? In truth, it was an oversight on his kidnappers part not to kill the boy and be done with it, a mistake Sloane was certain future people with the same intentions would not make, particularly if they followed the Glutton God.
Looking back down to Chauhn, he attempted a smile, this one without teeth, but it looked false, pained as his brow knit woefully. Sloane leaned down and gently held Chauhn's shoulders, nodding and giving the boy a firm shake. "Keep yourself safe, but keep him safer. If they find no hint of Plague about you, they'll find no reason to sniff about or try to take him. Suspicions must be cast everywhere, I am afraid..." As he spoke, his smile faded to a grim look, his eyes turned to stare blankly into the snow rather than at Chauhn. It was a terrible situation, unforgivable of those men and anyone else.
Slowly, he let go, taking care not to slice up the boy's shoulders with his claws, and stood tall again, giving a sigh but making eye contact, a smile creeping back into place. "You will make such a fine Grimm, Chauhn. I shall keep you no longer. Shelter and transpiration, I give you the best of luck!" A quick flash of his teeth in the widest smile he had given the boy yet, and the Plague was off, running back up through the snow and towards the mountains, mind still filled with unsettled doubts.
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Posted: Fri Jun 11, 2010 11:38 am
Sloane wasn't alone in his worries. Young Chauhn, underneath his outward presentation of hope and determination, was very much the picture of a desperate and frightened individual, like a thief backed into the corner, awaiting the sound of running footsteps, the sound of forces he could not escape. Had he been by himself, somehow transported to this alternate land of white, Chauhn would've gladly stayed with Sloane, allowed him to introduce him into another world of living, but this was not the case. Chauhn, even without his Plague, was very much kept company by the memories of his family. They called him home.
So, giving the best reassuring smile that he could give, a pinch of dirtied cheeks that were still plump from his younger years, Chauhn connected his gaze with that of the Plague before him. "Ah am too, sir, but ahm a boy o' the streets! Ah can be brave 'n' all, ah can make it." but his happy explanation, being kidnapped aside, sunk into a quiet mumble as Sloane leaned down to stare at him, eye to swirled eye. Struck by this shift, Chauhn stiffened his shoulders underneath Sloane's firm shake, training all his senses upon him. He listened to the stern pieces of advice, eyes wide and seeing nothing but the solemn look of the Plague before him. What he was saying was true, completely true, a creed that Chauhn had to follow lest he risk his and his brother's safety. After his terrifying ordeal, he knew, more than ever, that Sloane was completely correct in advocating Chauhn's paranoia. The urchin nodded his head, making a motion with his hand in a line across his chest, a child's own solemn vow, "Yes, mister Sloane, ah will! Ah'll do anythin' to keep m'brother safe. Thank you, mister. Ahll r'member you."
When he stood up, tall and looking upon him with a mad grin only a close friend or unsullied child could call gentle, Sloane looked then, to Chauhn, like someone he used to know, the muddled and shadowed shape of an older sibling long since past and turned to ash. The Clemmings boy let his chest swell with pride, the corners of his eyes itching with moisture, as he was bestowed with a kindly compliment.
A Grimm.
Was that what he was now? Chauhn wondered, as he watched Sloane's shape dart back through the snow, disappearing over the snowy ridges. Chauhn waved his arm high above his head, bidding his savior farewell. Was he a Grimm? When the shape of the Plague vanished over the hedge, Chauhn finally broke his gaze from the vast white. He slowly turned and began his way carefully down the snow slope. Wading into waist-deep white, he turned his gaze upon the ice-bound town and furrowed his brows deep with determination, forcing his cold and wet legs through the powder.
A Grimm, he was not. At least, not foremost. Chauhn Clemmings was a brother.
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