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 Posted: Sun May 01, 2011 8:19 pm
WHITETEXTTIMEISNOWYESYESWOO
WHITETEXTTIMEISNOWYESYESWOOLOLEHDESUI. Roadkill
WHITETEXTTIMEISNOWYESYESWOOLOLEHDESUII. A Brief Respite
WHITETEXTTIMEISNOWYESYESWOOLOLEHDESUIII. Off the Handle
WHITETEXTTIMEISNOWYESYESWOOLOLEHDESUIV. Painful Physical Comedy
WHITETEXTTIMEISNOWYESYESWOOLOLEHDESUV. A Grimm Fate
WHITETEXTTIMEISNOWYESYESWOOLOLEHDESUVI. November 30th
WHITETEXTTIMEISNOWYESYESWOOLOLEHDESUVII. Be Still
WHITETEXTTIMEISNOWYESYESWOOLOLEHDESUVIII. Her Way Out
WHITETEXTTIMEISNOWYESYESWOOLOLEHDESUIX. Be Still (Reprise)
WHITETEXTTIMEISNOWYESYESWOOLOLEHDESUX. A General's Request
WHITETEXTTIMEISNOWYESYESWOOLOLEHDESUXI. Les Dames de Lutte
WHITETEXTTIMEISNOWYESYESWOO
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Posted: Thu May 26, 2011 12:32 pm
Roadkill xx﹛PRP﹜xx..with Wickwright Finch and Dragomir Meschkexx﹛complete﹜A chance meeting at an alehouse with two strange gentlemen leads to a job opportunity.
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Posted: Sat Aug 06, 2011 8:39 am
A Brief Respitexx﹛PRP﹜xx..with Aysel Vartanianxx﹛incomplete﹜A young girl with a putrid rabbit makes her acquaintance with Maeve.
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Posted: Thu Aug 25, 2011 4:44 pm
Off the HandleLong skirts were not made for running, but run Maeve did. Between narrow alleyways and busy streets, she tried to make her getaway. Her attempts, however, were not doing much in her favor. Four men tailed her closely, not giving up the chase.
It was not often that Maeve was running from something; she was usually the one doing the chasing! If she could take the time, the mercenary would probably think the whole situation was ridiculous. Right now, the situation was on the serious side of things. This is exactly why she didn't go after bounties in the first place.
Maeve perused the town's bulletin board of sorts. Maybe there would be some nice money for her somewhere. No. The corner of her mouth twitched in disappointment. If there wasn't work to be found here, then there was only one more thing to do in this town-- hit the alehouse. A drink sounded relaxing, not to mention the off chance of finding work. Hopefully work that did not involve rescuing strange old men's oxen. It's not that it was a hard or bad job, Maeve reflected. The ordeal was just a strange one. Her life was nothing but strange as of late... and that trend would not be changing.
Entering the alehouse, there was nothing particularly of note. A couple men scattered about, drinking, and generally keeping quiet. Maeve slid by the tables, taking a seat at the bar. She raised her index finger to signal the barkeep and kept quiet herself. A large part of looking for work involved listening for opportunities. The life of a mercenary was not always as exciting as it sounded.
Her ale arrived quickly. And with that mug came footsteps beside her. Maeve glanced to her left, raising her drink to her lips casually. A middle-aged man with a scruffy-looking beard took the adjacent seat. He nodded his head, flashing a brief smile to Maeve. So Maeve did her best to ignore him. But it was at that same moment that a realization dawned upon her. He was missing two of his upper right teeth and hiding in his scraggly beard was a patch of skin where no hair grew-- a scar. Another sip of her ale. Could this man really be one of the bounties mentioned on the board? Was he that much of an idiot to grow a beard and think he was hidden from sight? Probably.
A plan slowly formed in her head: she could not reveal to him that she knew who he was. Maeve would have to apprehend him, restrain him, and transport him to the closest military outpost. This would be tricky, but it was money being thrown at her feet. How could she give up an opportunity like this?
Maeve opened her mouth as if to say something, her hand coming away from her drink. Before words were spoken, her hand was at the back of the man's head. Gripping his hair tightly, Maeve forced his head down onto the bar, slamming it violently. Another heft up while gritting her teeth and the mercenary smashed his head again. A slow exhale and Maeve released the man from her grip. He crumpled to the floor with a thud. The quiet alehouse now had all eyes turned to Maeve.
"Bounty," she stated nonchalantly to the barkeep. Now, it'd just be a matter of moving him while he was unconscious and--
"Hey!" A man stood up from a round table. "What the hell do ya think yur doin'!?" The man did not seem too happy.
"Bounty," Maeve repeated to this new man. She could understand why the scene could cause a stir. Sudden violence was startling after all.
"No, ya got it wrong! Tha's my bounty yur grabbin'!"
"Excuse me? It became my bounty when I knocked him out," she countered. Maeve did not have time to bicker with alehouse patrons-- she had a man to lug to the military.
The new man left his table, strutting to Maeve and her catch. He was a large and intimidating man, but was nothing she hadn't encountered before. Hands on his hips, he scowled down at Maeve. "This 'ere is my town! Outsiders ain't gonna be takin' my money!" He puffed up his chest.
Maeve blinked back up to him. Was this guy being serious? She really did not want to be dealing with this. "I'll give you a cut of the reward," Maeve conceded. Anything to make this oaf get out of her hair.
"It ain't yurs. It's all mine." A staring contest between the two kicked off at that moment.
More planning. Sadly, this situation could not be solved with smashing his head against something. This man was much bigger than her bounty and that made things complicated. It was a risk, but ignoring him might be for the better. Maeve broke eye contact and bent down slightly to retrieve her unconscious buddy.
A rough hand grabbed her shoulder and her normally half-dead eyes shot back to life. Without thought, Maeve retaliated with a harsh and well-placed knee to the groin. Maeve always played it cool, but in the heat of the moment, it was an entirely different story. Maybe she pretended to act so cool all the time to avoid situations like this-- to train her brain to react differently. That did not work.
Several men at a table jolted from their seats. Now was the time for Maeve to cut her losses and run. Facing another three of the guy's friends is far from what she wanted. It seemed that he would be getting his bounty after all.
With the big guy reeling in pain, Maeve made a dash for the door. Thus, the chase began. Icy cold water and mud splashed and splattered Maeve as she ran. For someone who liked plans, the mercenary was drawing blanks. She didn't know where she was going in this town, or what she was going to do if she got caught. (Most likely getting beaten was the answer). Weaving between people and alleyways could only do so much.
All that running led to a dead end-- a terrace. Being trapped was not an option. Maeve peered over the ledge, spotting a cart full of hay below. This was familiar! Years ago, Maeve recalled a thief jumping into hay to escape from her mercenary team. If some punk could do it, then clearly Maeve could too! Not to mention the four men gaining on her the longer she hesitated. She would jump in the hay, run off to a nice hiding spot and lay low for a while. Finally, a plan.
In the most graceful way possible, Maeve lost her footing and slipped off the edge backwards. Performing acrobatics between a back flip and a pirouette, she soared through the air in what felt like slow motion. Her landing was not as graceful-- landing flat on her back in the mound of hay. A sharp gasp and the wind was knocked from her completely. She laid still in shock, trying to regain her breath.
Luckily for her, she was absorbed by the hay and hidden from her pursuers. They had lost sight of her and were scrambling in every direction to find her again. They could not locate her no matter how hard they looked. Maeve would feel relieved if she could actually breathe. Deciding this was a nice place to stay, Maeve remained mostly unmoving in the cart. That is, until...
"Come along, Patsy," an older voice cooed. Hooves clopped along the ground and Maeve instantly knew what was happening. This old man was hitching his donkey to this cart and riding off somewhere. Worry filled her mind, but was quickly quelled remembering that she would rather be anywhere than here.
The old man, donkey, hay cart, and Maeve all trotted out of town together.
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Posted: Thu Nov 03, 2011 3:30 pm
Painful Physical Comedyxx﹛PRP﹜xx..with Coyotl Coyotl and Luckyxx﹛complete﹜A misunderstanding leads to the meeting of two Lucky's-- Maeve sees her first Excito.
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Posted: Wed Dec 28, 2011 11:52 am
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Posted: Fri Jan 06, 2012 2:30 pm
November 30thSeagulls cawed and screeched as they glided along the sea air, bobbing between the masts of ships. People moved as the gulls, trotting to and fro in the port. Despite the clutter and noise, the salt lent a sense of freshness. The sun was equally as kind as the ocean. It was bright and warm, but not too hot. A perfect day on the coast. Definitely the best time to play! But what should she do?
The young girl paced back and forth, hands behind her head as she pondered all her choices. She didn't often have so much free time to play and here she was wasting it! Puffing up her cheeks in distress, she decided she'd just have to decide. Aha! Picking flowers sounded ideal. She would have to travel a bit a ways from the docks, but she'd be able to make the most fabulous flower crown for her mother. Her mom would be royalty!
Without skipping a bear, the girl was off and rushing to where she knew was a particularly nice spot for flowers. Greeting the townsfolk politely on the way, of course... her mother had a reputation to keep up and it was important to be ladylike.
Bindweed was exceptional for weaving together into a sturdy but feminine crown. It was coming along quite nicely! In fact, she probably had enough time to make a matching crown for herself. Such care was given to each flower-- she would give all her effort to impress her mother.
Resting the crown in her lap, she lifted her hands palms up and stared down at them.
I'm dreaming.
Maeve squinted as she opened up her eyes to the unwelcoming night sky and dying fire. When exactly was the last time she dreamed? She assumed that because she slept so lightly, that she'd never dream again. That was not necessarily a bad thing. Such a happy and mundane dream only left her bitter and cold. It wasn't even a real memory--none that she could recall anyway. Why remind her of times passed? Those things happened and she couldn't change anything about them. Even reflecting on better memories was a waste of time. Maeve only had the choice to trudge forward, so why think of her childhood.
The mercenary would not be doing any sleeping now. (That was certain).
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Posted: Fri Jan 06, 2012 2:32 pm
Be Stillxx﹛ORP﹜xx..with the Grimms of Panymiumxx﹛complete﹜A promise of fifty Shillings and a meeting with the Council of Sciences and Emperor gone awry.
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Posted: Fri Feb 03, 2012 7:25 am
Her Way Out
The sun only barely broke through the clouds to shine through the windows of the Mage building. It was chill, unwelcoming-- not even a hearth lit to greet its guest. Cold, quiet, and dark was this early morning, but it was certainly better than the chaos of the theatre.
Her hand twitched, fingers going toward her palm; the rest of her stayed eerily still. Maeve laid unconscious on the floor, flat out on her back-- the only sign of life being her hand. She was dreaming. Breathing could finally be heard from the mercenary's lips. It sounded almost labored, an intense feeling, yet she remained asleep. It was not dreaming, no; wild thinking filled her mind in her paralyzed state. All the people, the Plagues, the Emperor, the Guard, the Mages... the anarchy, the threats, the treason, the killing.
Maeve's eyes fluttered open, her heartbeat rapid and her mind going even faster. Sitting up in a flash, the woman grabbed for her sword and found it with ease. She unsheathed it, pointing it at no one. No one was there... nothing was there. She looked in every direction to only be met with drab stone walls and floors. A clatter and her espada ropera now laid on the floor. Grasping at the small pouch at her side and her bandages were there-- her Plague. They had not lied to her after all, and she had everything she had came with. That is when she realized that she had been teleported back to Freykeep and back to Shyregoed.
The adrenaline rushing through her veins was not wavering, however. She needed to stand up and stop being so vulnerable. Pushing herself into a crouching position, she took her sword and stood up. Maeve doubted she'd be willing to sheath it so soon. With standing up came overwhelming sickness. Teleportation had not been kind to her a second time. Luckily, no one was here, and there was no reason to play cool. Pressing her hand onto the wall for support, Maeve bent down and heaved. It was unpleasant, but experience told her that after vomiting, one tended to feel much better. After finishing, and coughing some, she spat, trying to rid the taste from her mouth. It was time to get out of this place and get out of Shyregoed.
Espada ropera gripped tightly, Maeve made her way to the closest door. A small staircase was soon before her and she realized she was one floor up. A small sigh and she descended, but this time there was a person ready to speak with her.
"Miss LaChance," the envoy addressed Maeve. "As agreed upon, here is fifty Shillings for your cooperation." The man held out a coin purse, presumably with the money inside. Maeve looked at the pouch sleepily, but was amazed that they were actually giving her the money they promised. Not letting go of her sword, she turned it to the side, away from the both of them, and held her palm up. The man hesitantly dropped the bag into her hand and Maeve quickly pocketed it. She would have to examine its contents and count it in the near future.
Figuring things to be safer, she finally sheathed her weapon and looked back up to the envoy. It looked as if he wanted to say more to her. "Would you like an escort, Miss LaChance," he began. "That is, to any destination of your choosing and with no fee at all." He was offering to take her anywhere-- anywhere she'd like. The anywhere she was longing for was for anywhere but here. This was her way out, her chance to leave Shyregoed. She could be taken to Imisus and be done with this wretched place for good.
"Yes, that would be good." Maeve replied flatly. With her response, Maeve was shown out the door and greeted by a horse carriage. This was no simple horse carriage, but clearly one of the Imperial Guard, showing off its deep blues and golds to the world. Guardsmen waited about casually, but stood to attention as Maeve came into view. They seem surprised at her arrival, but Maeve can't place why. The Guard was caught off guard, Maeve mused to herself. Gods, she was making stupid puns in her head-- she was assuredly tired.
"We are leaving Shyregoed," Maeve stated (and it felt so good to say that). "Please take me to Imisus. Ald would be best, thank you." The mercenary had a surefire way of escaping Shyregoed, and despite the ruckus of the theatre, today was already a good day.
One of the Guardsmen opened the door to the carriage, holding his hand out politely to Maeve for her to step in. Maeve took his hand, entering the luxurious-looking thing and took a seat. It would be a fairly long trip, but at least it'd be one of comfort.
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Posted: Mon Feb 06, 2012 6:30 pm
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Posted: Tue Feb 07, 2012 7:45 am
A General's RequestLetter Miss Maeve la Chance, I became aware of your identity soon after the less than savoury presentation at the Helios base. While I try to contact as many as available, such an ideal situation is impossible to achieve, and I would like to contact what few I know might reply. I have good faith that this will reach you, Miss la Chance, and as a Plague of the Imperial Guard issue my undying thanks for the loyalty you showed the Plagues-- your Plague-- in such a troubling situation. My envoys have heard tell of your current stay in Ald, only a few miles away from Imisus. There are few I would like to contact in the Imisese area, where I am stationed now, and I would like to meet you personally-- to hear your word, to let you hear mine, shall you be willing. Perhaps we can spar, test your ability-- and test your wits, and see if you would like to join the Imperial Guard under a Plague's wing. Should you accept this offering, I shall give you one thing and ask of you but one simple favour. No trickery nor wordplay shall be involved, but such request can only be given in person, and so I shall promise my fealty to your safety with my name bloodwrit. I hope to meet you, Plague General Treatise.
She was being thanked-- thanked for her loyalty to the Plagues. Maybe if she had been more bold and stupid she would have gotten more recognition, Maeve huffed. The mercenary was not sure how standing still in a wild situation deemed gratitude, but she supposed she'd take it. Maeve was just about willing to be called a traitor in the Empire's eyes, after all. She understood the thanks quickly, as this letter was from no human, but a Plague. Plague General Treatise. Yes, she recalled her from the events at the theatre. Why did she contact Maeve?
Pressing the letter against a table, Maeve used her one arm to fold it up carefully. Once that was through, she placed it in one of her pouches around her waist. She would keep it for reference, or to prove who she was or-- she wasn't sure why she was keeping it, but it felt right. Maeve would go listen to what she had to say, but she'd have an escape plan as well. Things that sounded too good to be true often were as she found out with her newfound fifty Shillings. Maeve was promised no reward for this meeting, however, only promises of her safety. Promises of safety suddenly became much more enticing than promises of money.
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Posted: Tue Feb 07, 2012 7:48 am
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