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 Posted: Tue May 03, 2011 4:37 pm
THE GUNSMITH'S AEGIS ( EZEKIEL NORTH // DORIAN ARELGREN & LETTIE )MISHKAN ; A FOREST AT NIGHT- - - - - - - - Ezekiel North grimaced under the weight of sixteen repeaters packed in the leather sack with Vindicator. A single repeater was no burden to his back, but sixteen was altogether a different case of enduring pain. The lantern in his left hand trembled from his shaking arm, his right hand was fixed to the strap that was slung over his shoulder. Enfield wanted the delivery made quickly, and Ezekiel knew that there were other nights that had heavier loads. This one in particular was not so bad compared to the ones from months ago, before Vindicator came into his possession. The stench of his Plague was smothered further by the guns stacked atop of it, and Ezekiel felt himself care less than he did in the beginning. He stopped halfway along his usual trail, which he knew due to the markings he left carved into the bark of his "Odd Trees". He'd grown them himself, actually, and finding them was no trouble, the directions carved onto them were more helpful than his memory. He leaned against one of his trees, stopping to breathe. He would continue shortly--but incoming shouts stopped him short. The gunsmith's apprentice drew Enfield's old lantern away from his face, in the direction of the noise, and he could make out the dark figures of people he did not know. One of them was a mage, a sword drawn, and the other was a rather colorful man clutching a brown satchel to his chest, out of breath. Ezekiel cocked his head at the scene, not sure of what to make of it.
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Posted: Thu May 05, 2011 12:48 am
Dorian Arelgren ran in a flurry, his feet no longer careful in watching where they stepped. His mind raced with adrenaline, his hands swapping at every branch that came his way—desperate to get away from the mage that apparently was hot on his heels—he didn’t know why in particular he’d chosen the most inauspicious day to disappear from Mishkan, but he managed to attract the attention of a mage that was rather unhappy with him. It was partially Dorian’s fault for denying his allegiance to Obscuvos when the man asked. The man insisted he was sure Dorian Arelgren was affiliated with the House, word spread of it, and that he had a score to settle with the sandy-blond gadfly. Truthfully, the Arelgren knew very little of what the Council of Mages had to offer and what friction it shared with the House of Obscuvos, but Dorian assumed it was a distasteful one and the man found every reason to pursuit the haggard Obscuvian. The theory that the man’s “score” was personal was also a contemplated thought.
Within his bag, Lettie was clinging onto Hopkin's leather, her little mouth screeching along with her Grimm--both afraid for their safety. Dorian was glad that his own shouts masked the squeaks of his Plague, otherwise he was sure that her exposure would only reap more trouble for him.
His heart leaped when light neared him, from a lantern perhaps, for it scattered the shadows of trees around him. The mage seemed aware of this also, and his pursuit became a more precautious one, and more prepared. He’d drawn a second sword now, and Dorian was suddenly very afraid.
But.
There was a young boy, he could make him out well—the boy was leaning against a far tree, a lantern outstretched in a shaky hand. They seemed to have seen each other, and Dorian took the opportunity to request a delivery from danger.
”YOU THERE!” the Arelgren hollered, the pitch of his voice reaching its acme. He was desperate now, he’d been escaping for thirty minutes at least—and he wasn’t willing to fatigue his legs any further.
He noticed barrels protruding from the boy’s sack upon closer inspection, and the two of them were separated by a single cluster of trees---
”YOU’VE GOT BARRELS, HAVE YOU NOT? DO A MAN A FAVOR, AND SHOOT MY ASSAILANT IN THE LEG!” Dorian yelped, thrusting a finger at the mage that hesitated in his rush. He still had his swords poised, and he now stared fixedly at the eyepatched boy with a batch of weapons tied to his back.
It was alright. The boy could die too, as long as he had Arelgren done and over with. He’d have to use swords, his magic was too weak to deal any permanent damage, or to kill the prodigal son at all.
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knife effect Vice Captain
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Posted: Tue May 24, 2011 4:32 pm
Ezekiel sighed, shrugging the sack of weapons from his shoulder. Situations like these were uncommon, but always resulted in good sales. So he decided to follow through with it. There was a man frantically running towards him, being chased by a shadowing figure- a mage.
Memories of the incident when a mage had cheated him of shillings flooded back to him, and Ezekiel decided it was time to retaliate. He pulled a repeater from the sack, and adeptly loaded three rounds into the fixed magazine. Three shots would be all that he would need. Following Enfield's procedure regarding the use of guns against living targets in public, Ezekiel raised the rifle, sighted it at the chasing mage, and called out.
"If you do not wish to be destroyed, stand fast." The running figures did not stop. They were quickly approaching, and were now well within the effective range of the repeater. Ezekiel's finger curled around the cold, steel trigger of the weapon, and he applied the two pounds of pressure necessary to fire.
BANG.
The shot rang throughout the city, and Ezekiel quickly threw the lever underneath and resighted, lining up the aperture of the rifle's sights to the running mage. Moving targets were not a problem for the gunsmith. Just like deer hunting, he thought.
BANG.
Threw the lever, resighted.
BANG.
Ezekiel threw the lever after the final shot and walked up the the curled mass of body on the cobblestone floor. He knelt down to one knee, and felt his victim's neck for a pulse. There was none. Standing up, Ezekiel looked the mystery man he had just saved in the eye, and in the dim light of a torch, handed him the repeater.
"The Enflield North Model 1411 repeating rifle was the fine instrument that saved your life on this fateful night. This magnificent piece of forged weaponry has a ten-round internal fixed magazine, allowing you only to have to reload in between volleys. Had you possessed such a weapon, you needn't have asked me to help. A thousand shillings. I shall include fifty shots of ball to get you started."
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Posted: Tue May 24, 2011 5:31 pm
Dorian covered his ears at the boy's answer, standing fast as told to. The latter decided to fire after all, and quite noisily too--though every shot from his firearm was a flawless one, and the Arelgren felt his legs shaking when his attacker fell limply to the ground. Lettie was smart enough in her own mind not to reveal herself from hiding, and Dorian was satisfied with her choice of action. Slow breathing calmed him, and slowly the adrenaline left his brain, leaving him a still shell of a man under the forest's canopy. Normally, Dorian would have found this break to be the opportune moment to thank the gunman, but he was cut off when the gunman spoke first.
"The Enflield North Model 1411 repeating rifle was the fine instrument that saved your life on this fateful night. This magnificent piece of forged weaponry has a ten-round internal fixed magazine, allowing you only to have to reload in between volleys. Had you possessed such a weapon, you needn't have asked me to help. A thousand shillings. I shall include fifty shots of ball to get you started."
Dorian noticed that his savior seemed to possess a sense of virility despite his appearance of his youth. The eyepatch that donned the boy's right eye was patterned, and when he spoke, his words were like coated velvet. When his rescuer's offer finally sunk in, Dorian pondered the purchase, then decided that accepting the offer was probably not a horrible choice to make. After all, there wouldn't be a timely gunman every time the prodigal son was being hunted by a Mage or another person who outright wanted to have him dead to the grave. He would be able to protect Lettie, too. She'd been shying away in his bag for many days, and he wanted to grant her freedom that could be protected.
He reached into his boot and revealed a fistful of shillings, glad that he had some to spare.
”Aye, you have yourself a deal, lad.” Dorian said quietly, hoping the exchange would bring him more luck with the addition of a weapon. Although he knew little about weapons, he did hear of the Enfield North brand, aristocrats seemed rather fond of it, and its models were the most innovative of all Mishkan (if he learned anything at all during his Mishkan vacation). His eyes swept over the "instrument that saved his life", pleased.
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knife effect Vice Captain
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Posted: Sun Jul 03, 2011 6:27 pm
Ezekiel pocketed the shillings handed to him by the other, frowning. The mage's corpse was something that needed to be dealt with and he himself had no experience. His reasoning leaned him towards simply leaving the body there until morning when someone else would discover it. He felt odd at the conclusion the two men came to, the light was offset anyways and he couldn't really see the other's face much (it was still on the floor where he left it so he could freely use his hands to shoot). He kept in mind that Vindicator weighed his bag also, and that he best be keeping on the road. he'd have to find another gunsmith somewhere in town that may know cleaning methods Enfield did not. Truthfully he doubted it (just as much as he doubted the mysterious gentleman knew anything about guns) but the North boy decided against speaking more than he needed to, especially about his personal affairs.
"Now that you have your weapon and I have my half of the trade, I must excuse myself for the road. It's dark, so you're welcome to accompany me, who has light, but I am off on business for Enfield."
With that being said, Ezekiel North swung his bag of guns over his shoulder keeping Vindicator in mind, and walked off, dirt pressing against the heel of his boots.
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Posted: Wed Aug 24, 2011 12:50 pm
"Now that you have your weapon and I have my half of the trade, I must excuse myself for the road. It's dark, so you're welcome to accompany me, who has light, but I am off on business for Enfield.", the boy said monotonously, his opal eye still haunting.
Dorian nodded quickly, digesting what was told to him. Though the boy was younger than him (the Arelgren deduced from the boy's voice), his answers were more command-like than informal. However, his path was towards Shyregoed, and he wasn't certain if the opposite's was aligned. He decided to reject the offer, too paranoid to question if the eyepatched male was indeed, venturing the same path as he. Lettie was trembling against his chest, and he considered her as well.
”Nay, I'll be going my own way, lad. Godspeed to you on your humble delivery,” Dorian replied curtly before his departure. He wondered if he should've purchased the lantern from the boy as well, but the thought was a cruel one, for the boy was already blind in one eye.
He would've appreciated an ember, though.
END
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knife effect Vice Captain
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