*As twight falls upon the parapets of Sword Swamp, the sound of of hooves fills the air. A horse is being drivin up the trail. Hard and fast. As the horse nears a woven basket , it suddenly stops. The rider's feet hit the soil with a loud hard thump. The rider walks fast with long strides. The creatures of the parapets try to see who comes this way, but they can't see him clearly. They see a man. A tall man with broad shoulders. The rider's pace quickens as he nears the basket. In one fluent motion, without braking his stride, the man snatches a toad from the gound and nails all four limbs to a dead tree not more then 5 feet from the basket. The toad screams as loud as a toad can scream. And before the toad can stop it's cry of anguish, it is split from throat to groin by a lightning fast dagger. The rider turns and mounts his horse. And as quickly as the horse arrived it left. All the creatures of the parapets saw was a man of silver riding away on a pale horse.*
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Your move China Doll
- Thread starter Arboc
- Start date
Cobra strike
*wind stung lips close around the tip of a jeweled flute, command and demand flow from a chaotic mind and focus on a song for Arboc. Hours pass and the melody goes on, a haunting minor refrain that melds with the songs of birds, becoming undetectable as anything foreign to the man who's mind it enters. She knows the moment he's heard her command and embraced it as a grand idea all his own. The song ends, its purpose fulfilled. A balm of sandlewood, clove, and honey soothes the ache of a mouth held taut too long.
"He's stubborn. How nice."
*in time the thundering of expected hooves reaches the Sword Swamp parapets, bringing the man of good intentions, and foolish values into sight of the summoner. With sheer delight she watches as he acts the Cobra he truly is, dispatching a toad with as much vigor and energy as though he'd swallowed it whole. It was just a toad though, not one she'd created. The crickets would celebrate. Something is always well served by the act of another, whether its intent be fair or foul. Arboc remounts, eyes scanning the parapets, missing the wiggling finger of "helllllllooooo" waved at him from the shadows, and rides off, free of will once again*
"Well, that was interesting. Of course he'll end up in the basket I've woven especially for him and dance his sinuous dance as the cobra he is. In time. But first that core of harmony must be stripped away. Its incomprehensible, confusing, and shows a weakness that must be burned away."
*pulling the treasured spellbook from within the pocket of a cloak of blackest velvet, pages are turned, aching lips pursed once again, a frown of concentration settling in place*
"Ahhh... yes. Softest lips hide sharpest teeth. Time to become very soft indeed."
*Alternating between a fast walk and a gleeful skip, the swamp true is entered, components of transformation sought."
*wind stung lips close around the tip of a jeweled flute, command and demand flow from a chaotic mind and focus on a song for Arboc. Hours pass and the melody goes on, a haunting minor refrain that melds with the songs of birds, becoming undetectable as anything foreign to the man who's mind it enters. She knows the moment he's heard her command and embraced it as a grand idea all his own. The song ends, its purpose fulfilled. A balm of sandlewood, clove, and honey soothes the ache of a mouth held taut too long.
"He's stubborn. How nice."
*in time the thundering of expected hooves reaches the Sword Swamp parapets, bringing the man of good intentions, and foolish values into sight of the summoner. With sheer delight she watches as he acts the Cobra he truly is, dispatching a toad with as much vigor and energy as though he'd swallowed it whole. It was just a toad though, not one she'd created. The crickets would celebrate. Something is always well served by the act of another, whether its intent be fair or foul. Arboc remounts, eyes scanning the parapets, missing the wiggling finger of "helllllllooooo" waved at him from the shadows, and rides off, free of will once again*
"Well, that was interesting. Of course he'll end up in the basket I've woven especially for him and dance his sinuous dance as the cobra he is. In time. But first that core of harmony must be stripped away. Its incomprehensible, confusing, and shows a weakness that must be burned away."
*pulling the treasured spellbook from within the pocket of a cloak of blackest velvet, pages are turned, aching lips pursed once again, a frown of concentration settling in place*
"Ahhh... yes. Softest lips hide sharpest teeth. Time to become very soft indeed."
*Alternating between a fast walk and a gleeful skip, the swamp true is entered, components of transformation sought."
*As LadyChina skips gleefully away, she fails to notice the darken figure hidden in the shadows of the dead oak. Arboc steps out into what remains of light. A smirk, and a low chuckle are his companions.* " Thank you. I now know how completely devoid of any form of compassion rests in your soul, if you have one, dear "Lady". I'll choose which songs I dance to and to with whom I dance with." * He turns and walks away from the parapets* " Just a toad? Like my comrade Listle said, "If you weren't so damn honorable, you would have marked your territory in a different way." *A short, quiet whistle leave his lips. His stead appears. As he straddles his mount he looks back toward the parapets and whispers * "You know, I just might know a trick or two of magic myself." *Then he jabs his horse in its side and off he goes at a full gallop, on the back of a pale horse.*
Cyren grins, her hands on her hips and a little bounce in her step.
Finally, something to do!
Cyren starts to quietly make bets on the outcome of this scuffle.
She disappears into the tavern, counting some coins and she does a decent impression of Dark Helmet "Evil will always triumph over good, because GOOD is DUMB."
She doesn't believe this, but in this case...yeah, maybe, gotta go with it.
Finally, something to do!
Cyren starts to quietly make bets on the outcome of this scuffle.
She disappears into the tavern, counting some coins and she does a decent impression of Dark Helmet "Evil will always triumph over good, because GOOD is DUMB."
She doesn't believe this, but in this case...yeah, maybe, gotta go with it.
*mid-skip the urge to rub the back of a suddenly prickling neck is indulged. Turning slightly, there's nothing to be seen but great stands of swamp weeds and the sudden scuttling of an alerted spider*
"Easy, woman. You're home now. You know every inch of this land, and the tortures of the past didn't kill you, and certainly nothing in this place of... What was it that Arboc called it? - oh yes, peace - is anything more than a source of amusement.
*hand dropping from her neck, a few swamp weeds are viciously yanked until an oddly harsh bouquet is formed*
"Now focus, there's magics to be woven, and Cobra's to quell."
"Easy, woman. You're home now. You know every inch of this land, and the tortures of the past didn't kill you, and certainly nothing in this place of... What was it that Arboc called it? - oh yes, peace - is anything more than a source of amusement.
*hand dropping from her neck, a few swamp weeds are viciously yanked until an oddly harsh bouquet is formed*
"Now focus, there's magics to be woven, and Cobra's to quell."
Cryptic, yet Vague
*Rising with the taste of roses and lavender still clogging the back of a talk-sore throat, and the blood warming effect of mead still flushing pale skin, slow but steady progress is made down the worn steps to the tavern. There on the table that was slapped in glee and pounded in pain just the night before, lies an envelope in a slice of pale morning sun. The intials "LC" are written in bold hand on one side, a curious design is impressed into the wax seal on the other.*
"It can't be the tax collector already, I've hardly had time to spread my silk sheets and furred blankets, to refresh the herbs in my dream pillows, to set up an altar to the Goddess and the Greenman, to find a proper storage container for severed body parts, and to make up the steps to a new dance! Vampires - ALL of the members of the council of taxation and dissemination - that explains the night delivery of the letter I suppose."
*sliding a long nail under the wax seal, a hiss is heard as a nasty paper cut appears on the tender pad underneath. Sucking at the thin blood-filled line, eyes widen in surprise at the lines of writing revealed on the parchment the envelope contained.*
"...The Snake is silent and calm. Never in a hurry, the Snake can lie at rest until it is time to act, and then act with total abandon. Snakes can be secretive and slow to speak. Snakes can be suspicious at times, and keep themselves hidden from the limelight. They are usually a bit deeper than others, leaving them with a lot of private thoughts. Snakes can be loners at times, although they make ardent, exuberant lovers... "
*its signed simply "A"*
"A resume."
*a sly smile moves a thin scar on the cheekbone of the Lady*
"Oh, I've no doubt that your swordplay talents extend beyond the training halls, Arboc. There's just the small matter of that core of harmony you hold to so fiercely. I don't trust it. I don't like it. I will destroy it. When you can embrace the shadows, perhaps you'll embrace me. But first you've a dance to learn, and some suffering to do. No piece of meat is as tastey a bite unless its been poked and soaked in exotic spices and the salt."
"tucking the parchment against her heart, thoughts of the salt of tears reigns supreme. Not even a toad hopping by draws the pensive glance away from the ashes of the cold fire*
*Rising with the taste of roses and lavender still clogging the back of a talk-sore throat, and the blood warming effect of mead still flushing pale skin, slow but steady progress is made down the worn steps to the tavern. There on the table that was slapped in glee and pounded in pain just the night before, lies an envelope in a slice of pale morning sun. The intials "LC" are written in bold hand on one side, a curious design is impressed into the wax seal on the other.*
"It can't be the tax collector already, I've hardly had time to spread my silk sheets and furred blankets, to refresh the herbs in my dream pillows, to set up an altar to the Goddess and the Greenman, to find a proper storage container for severed body parts, and to make up the steps to a new dance! Vampires - ALL of the members of the council of taxation and dissemination - that explains the night delivery of the letter I suppose."
*sliding a long nail under the wax seal, a hiss is heard as a nasty paper cut appears on the tender pad underneath. Sucking at the thin blood-filled line, eyes widen in surprise at the lines of writing revealed on the parchment the envelope contained.*
"...The Snake is silent and calm. Never in a hurry, the Snake can lie at rest until it is time to act, and then act with total abandon. Snakes can be secretive and slow to speak. Snakes can be suspicious at times, and keep themselves hidden from the limelight. They are usually a bit deeper than others, leaving them with a lot of private thoughts. Snakes can be loners at times, although they make ardent, exuberant lovers... "
*its signed simply "A"*
"A resume."
*a sly smile moves a thin scar on the cheekbone of the Lady*
"Oh, I've no doubt that your swordplay talents extend beyond the training halls, Arboc. There's just the small matter of that core of harmony you hold to so fiercely. I don't trust it. I don't like it. I will destroy it. When you can embrace the shadows, perhaps you'll embrace me. But first you've a dance to learn, and some suffering to do. No piece of meat is as tastey a bite unless its been poked and soaked in exotic spices and the salt."
"tucking the parchment against her heart, thoughts of the salt of tears reigns supreme. Not even a toad hopping by draws the pensive glance away from the ashes of the cold fire*