LovelyAnastasia

Samhain Intrigues

I shall post tomorrow though no one is inclined to anticipate it particularly intensely lol

Hunt for the Wild Dakota (ONL & LovelyAnastasia)

Wasula thought his confusion was rather amusing. He always seemed so surprised at what she might say. Old or young, he was prickly about his age like a young an untried warrior who wished so badly to prove himself. Did he think she would be friendly and amendable, truly? Why should she be? He was a stranger using her as a pawn to get what he wanted. It was the way of his people.

But that didn't mean she had to like it. A grudge? None so deep, perhaps, but really what reason did she have to like or trust him? His people were always showing one face and holding another close to their heart. One could smile and speak sweet words one day, then spew venom and malcontent the next. Like the winter season with its pale beauty and slowly killing kiss.

While there was a bitterness in her heart for his winter coloring, she could not bring herself to hate him with reason. She didn't mind him much, though Wasula didn't quite like his negotiating skills. But if she had purely disliked him, she would have rejected his mission entirely, and loudly at that. But this young cowhand seemed a little more sweet sap than bitter bark.

He smiled like spring sun after a steady rain. She could see his handsomeness a bit better, though his features were still rather alien to her. Her dark eyes could also see the glimpses of the boy he used to be, as well as the man he might become someday. Was he so adamant to prove himself to impress more than just the people of South's Valley, then? A young maiden captured the arch of his bow and bade him forward? A knowing smile curved her lips. She was not so old and bitter beyond her young years to leave all romanticism behind.

A pleasant cause, gaining back stolen horses to gain honor so that the heart of maiden could be won. Wasula had hoped for something similar from a young warrior two or three summers back. Her elder brother had swiftly put an end to all of that. It was in his nature. While this young Old Man had the caress of winter in his coloring, her brother had it in his heart and actions.

"A 'nickname'?" She mused before continuing, "Ah, ah, ah, yes. A name of likeness. Well, call me as you like, but different names will earn different actions." And by that she meant if he called her something nice, she would respond a bit nicer. Any slur and he might not like tugging on the ear of the little she-wolf. Her dark hair fell down her back as she raised her head and gave him a faint smile.

"Very well," she nodded once, taking lead of their walk, her steps sure and swift, "This Sharp-Tongued Woman will lead you. But mind no foot of yours falls into a burrow. Broken ankles do not carry men to places they seek very quickly." It was just a small jest, but by her subtle influx of tone it might be hard to tell. That and without her expressive eyes, her mood was a bit more brisk and difficult to translate.

"If you fall," she continued, "I may have to call you by another 'nickname' and you might have to call me She Laughs." Her soft huff of a laugh answered his chuckle. As for his little deal, she gave another small huff. "Why should a bet be made on a fact that is known?" Her rich voice held some mirth to it, "If This One knows it and I suspect it, then it is a known bet to whom the loser will be." She gave a bit more of scoff and turned her cheek to raise a brow at him. "Why should I fall into a game where I know I will lose?"

"That," she turned to face forwards once more, "and I have much liking to call you by other names. It makes your face show many colors and expressions." Her dark hair swung behind her like a laughing painted woman's veil. Teasing him seemed to bring her a bit more than light pleasure. The rest of the way was lead with little talking on her part, though they got to her and her brother's camp the sun was far brighter. Morning gave to the fresh start of day and the 'camp' as she had called it... Well it was quite difficult to tell apart from the plains itself.

The tall grass was only brushed down a bit around a lone standing tree, a thin stream snaking its way through the rock and roots secretively. There was no horse, no tent, not even a foreseeable fire pit. If her brother had lit any fire, usually during the night and only for quick cooking, the ashes were buried under small rocks. Any belongings were strung high up in the tree's branches, which Wasula nimbly climbed up to rifle through. The area where the grass had been pushed down was the area where she had woken up alone just that morning.

Fitting the valuables up, up, up, deep in the branches of the tree where even the Young Man could not see, the dark haired woman came back down almost as quietly as she had gone up. Every agile move seemed to come in time the rustling of the trees leaves and every motion she had made while up there had been just as soft.

Once more on the ground with the Young Man, Wasula looked at him. Wind swept over the grass and across her cheek, her dark silk hair brushing against her cheek. "I have done as I said," she tilted her head towards him, her crystal clear expression somehow both open and yet yielding nothing all at once, "We now go to your hut."

So he had said himself. And leaving the 'camp' it was almost indistinguishable from the rest of the landscape, besides the lone tree. Though in truth one lone tree looked like many others. Without Wasula to guide to which tree, it would be extremely difficult for the untrained eye. Though even a seasoned Hunter would have difficulties finding a camp that did not belong to him.

Hunt for the Wild Dakota (ONL & LovelyAnastasia)

I haven't forgotten you dearling! It is just on work days I can only manage one post and I have thirteen RPs both on this site and two others! I apologize for such the long time between posts!

Samhain Intrigues

So what happened to our Hound?

Samhain Intrigues

Bodil Bera

Hall Under the Mountain

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The fox was irritating. The Hound was a bitter after taste. And the whining people around her were maddening! Did no one fight?! Did no one stand up for themselves?! The child-brained one screamed and the one with the fox tattoo that all the Fae were in love with was abused and the Ice Queen was talked down to and quarreled with... Bodil gnashed her teeth and kicked her legs.

"Pathetic!" She growled, "Every single one of you."

But the fox and Fae paid her no mind. Eventually her captor set her to her feet and she crossed her arms over her chest, face flushed with anger. She had the unrestrained urge to stomp on his foot. Not that it would hurt him. In fact, he'd probably do that stupid ghosting thing and her foot would pass right though him! Irritation after irritation!

While she had been no witness to gore, being over the fox' shoulder and more focused on if she could bit one of his waving about tails or not, she saw the after math. And boy did it set her green around the gills. Of course, the shock of it, Bodil realized the innards of humans didn't look so different from the innards of deer or elk or even chickens. She had grown a bit of a tough skin to blood and guts, but that of a humans...

It was strange. And she didn't quite know how to register it yet. So she stared. Then looked up at the whispering things and frowned, glossing right over the experience all together. She'd probably have nightmares about it, but it was reality. People had fleshy stuff inside them. And when monsters used their monsterous abilities, all that goop spilled on the ground just like it did when a deer was on a gutting hook in the slaughter room.

So instead of focusing on the weak and meek, she lifted her chin and scoffed at the hissing snake den of Fae. "Seems like these things are just as petty as teenage girls," she smirked with her dry humor then glared at the fox who tried scolding her.

"Hey, piss off!" She snapped at him, "You keep your pervert hands to yourself! You think I'd be dumb enough to try and escape in this crowd?" She jerked her head back at the rest of the humans. "Please," she sneered, "These people are spotlights! They're so pathetic they bring more attention to themselves than I do when I am angry and shouting." She lifted her dark head and grinned deviously. "Give me more credit than that, cat-boy," she huffed, "That Hound or Mutt or WhateverHe'sCalled will lose me in a week flat. With my endurance all I'll have to do is find a ball and throw it before he realizes I am gone."

Nothing like using their nicknames against them. The young woman chuckled, earning more than a few incredulous looks and glared from her human kind. She obviously wasn't making friend among them. And she didn't want to. With her few comments, she had put distance between her and the humans. No one would pay attention to her in a week, hence no one would try to tag along with her escape plan and ruin it. Within that week, she'd keep her head down and they would all lose interest in her, not even giving her a second glance when she made her move.

As for the fox? He would focus on her timeline that she had just given him. The Hound would surely focus on her, then when the time passed and she gave the proper appearance of a meek and broken prisoner, he too would stop paying attention to her. Probably focus on trying to get into Ice Queen's pants or something. Fine by her. Bodil would slip away in the night and slip back to her proper realm. And the Fae would be so bored by her by then, thinking her broken and meek, that they wouldn't even bother with her.

For now, she had to seem interesting. It would make her 'breaking' look more dramatic and more realistic. It was a perfect misdirection. And it all hinged on the Hound losing interest in her within a week. Easy as making a pie.

Bodil grinned, an odd sight among all the despairing humans.

Beginner's DnD 5e Game - Group 2

Half-elves. Solglia rolled her eyes and shook her head a bit. Nevermind that her last few hits had missed. Nevermind that some half-blood light-foot had taken victory. Nevermind that both the tentacled creatures and the leaf-brained Magic-flinging gnome had used her as a sheild... Nevermind most of that sorrowful disgrace of a battle!

The she-dwarf rubbed her bruised side and made a sucking noise of disgust at her battle display. Basic and without beauty, her entire battle. She had been nothing more than a hammer-wielding child, relying on the Soul Forager for the most part, underestimating her opponents. With a blessing of thanks to the AllFather for lending his strength, she dismissed the Spiritual Weapon.

How pitiful she had become in that tank! Had she soaked up more disgraceful and pitiful qualities, locked away as a prisoner? With a growl, she slung to lock her hammer to her back once more, rather a bit more sour and out of sorts than before. "Someone search the coffins and corners," she grumbled, "By His Spark, I hope we got something more than a harsh beating as a reward for all of that!"

Hunt for the Wild Dakota (ONL & LovelyAnastasia)

Wasula knew this man, just as she knew all white men. He thought himself better than her, with or without meanness in his spirit. He had been taught that he was more civilized, more educated, simply more than her. Yet he couldn't find horses that had been raided, nor perhaps even survive against all the harshness that the bare lands provided without his small house (tent), his band of companions or his large sticking out cooking fire.

He thought he knew her. She lifted a brow at him and smiled slowly. Knowingly, sharp and wise. He was fair, for one of his people, but he was too different from her and taught he knew so much, like children often did before coming adults. And adults before becoming elders. Bound by what he thought he knew, she should not judge him too harshly for his ignorance. Perhaps she could teach him something more, the truth of her people, how they lived, worked, played. How free they were.

Of course, he could be too full already of what he thought he knew. A cup too full could not be added too for it would only spill out anything added to it. The native woman let out a small amused noise. And dry was that amusement. But she said nothing further, for she had already agreed to help him and had already made her distaste for ill treatment known to him. He gave her a half a smile and she returned it, still uncertain of how to take him.

"Six and twenty is young," she snorted, but smiled, teasing him, "Or perhaps he wishes me call him 'Old Man'? Yes, yes, Ju-li-an Kirk-land, lead way. This woman will follow." She brushed her hand through the air and as he turned spoke once more. "Old Man go forward, Wasula will follow." A mischievous grin, rather proud of herself, she laughed softly. But he turned again and looked at her. He gave her an odd look, as if he were looking deeper and through to her spirit, reading her but confused by the foreign language.

"As long as there is no rain, Wasula will see their trail," she gave him a tilting up of her chin, "Young men are often clumsy in hiding their trail from White Men, since White Men are blind and do not see like The People." Clearly she spoke as this were just fact and did not mean to be harsh. Even if it sounded harsh. But it was true. Only One of the People could find a path of one of their own. Tilting her dark head, long hair falling over her shoulder like a raven lowering its wing. Her depthless eyes looked back at him like midnight pools reflecting all and showing no secrets.

"Leaving soon is good," she lifted the basket in her hands up a little higher, trying to balance its weight once more, "But I do not see how a trail can become 'cold' as you say. Only rain and time wash and wear away at trails..." She shook her head a bit, as if putting to bed his curious use of language. "The camp of my brother and I is outside this village," she nodded down to her basket, "I will place these things and take any necessary things from there." She gave him a cautious look. Her brother wouldn't be happy for her to take him there but... "You will come too." Anything she needed, she already had at the camp. And it would do him some good seeing her life.

Samhain Intrigues

Bodil Bera

The Gate of the Gatekeeper

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Bodil ran as much as she could, as far as she could. But that damnedable beast was always behind her. Any turn, any twist, any leap, and he was on her tail. The fox was as relentless as any of her childhood nightmares. Her lungs burned, her heart pounded, her legs ached... Being mortal was just such a disadvantage. And it was humiliating losing to something as horrid as a beast who pretended to be a man!

The dark haired sparrow of a woman let out a frustrated yell of a growl when her feet hit a well worn path. It looked similar to a path deer might have tread over and over again. Like a road, but for animals. Her breathing burned, her insides burned, her limbs burned, everything burned. She was slowing without breaks or places to hide to catch her breath. Bodil gasped for air.

And then, all of a sudden, she was lifted into the air. And promptly found herself over the beastman's shoulder! Exhausted as she was, the little winter-colored spitfire kicked and beat her fists on the fox the best she could. But nothing seemed to relinquish her from the creature. It was as if she were made of paper and glass and nothing could effect him. Mortifyingly enough, her loss with the race was being flaunted to all the others, like she was a human billboard with 'you can never escape' written all over her in neon letters.

And of course the fox took them to the very front. Over a fox beast's shoulder facing that wretched hound who 'owned' her. Face red from the stain of constant running, eyes bleary from need for oxygen, she could only manage a partial glare.

As the journey continued, Bodil grew more bored than anything else. Over the male's shoulder like a sack of apples, she put her chin in her palm as if waiting for her name to be called for a doctor's appointment. The fox never let her down, never let her go, and she began to really wonder if the hound was the one who 'owned' her or if it was the damnedable fox. He was like a mutt with his new favorite chew toy. Of course, if the beast bit her she'd scratch his eyes out and bite him back.

Her caravan seating through the journey kept her facing the hound or the fox's backside, so she opt for the least horrible of the two views. Glaring at the hound through the fox's fan of tails. Sometimes she'd pull a childish face at him too, sticking her tongue out or crossing her eyes. It was quite a boring trip, so she couldn't be blamed too much. Bodil was light and lean, but she gave the beast that held her a hit or two every time she got too bored or too frustrated. She had to do something to break up the monotony after all. And she wouldn't talk to either of the monsters, that was for certain.

When the marching hoard met the monster at the front gate, all Bodil saw was the hound and all those behind him. She didn't see the female creature, only hearing her odd speech. And wondered if she herself might be the snack for the hissing gatekeeper. Especially when the creature carrying her seemed to respond that he indeed did have a 'treat' for his fellow monster. Enraged that he might feed her to the thing after all the horrible time of predator and prey racing about, she clawed and kicked with fury. She would not die after trying so hard to survive not just this place but her homeland too!

But through the fox's tails she saw a man being dragged. Ah. Well then. Not her. Her face flamed a bit, mortified once more at her struggle without a cause. And she turned her eyes away from the man, feeling worse still that she had felt relief at not being the one singled out as a 'treat' for the gatekeeper. But really this whole sack-of-meal-on-the-shoulder thing was getting old. Her body ached now from being in one position for so long and not moving. How's that for a fickle human body?

"Can I at least walk on my own now?" She asked with an irritated tug on one of the fox's tentacle-like tails, "I think you made your point, Nightmare."

Beginner's DnD 5e Game - Group 2

Solglia frowned softly, realizing with the elf that ran away, that the littlest of their rag tag group was no more. Taking her pendant into the palm of her hand, she praised the AllFather for letting the little one die with honor in battle. "May ye look to her with kindness, guide her through the heavy mountains and into the purest summer lands," she whispered softly, dark curls glimmering with warmth, "Let her soul march with the Warriors into your guiding arms and may no harm she ever suffer again."

The she-dwarf's whispers were oddly melodic with her husky voice, as if she could sing these words. Everyone started to wander and drift away. No one tended to the little one's shell of a body. Should...she do something? Perhaps someone who was less attached to the sweet little thing should take care of her last rites then? Or the little body could be put entirely into the acidic goo to completely dissolve and her spirit be relieved of any worldly mortal connections. It could work the same as purifying fire.

Lifting the little body and putting into the goo, the she-dwarf held up her holy symbol and murmured prayers over the little body. Tonight she would sing a farewell song to the spirit as it passed through the veil. But for now, life for the living trudged on. With a nod, she trudged towards the room with the others in it.

"A person is checking the coffins fer things, aye?" She asked a bit louder than her usual speaking voice.

Samhain Intrigues

I really need yin to post