WhiteRose

This Angel of Mine (WhiteRose and HylianRose)

Katiel followed Kari, still lost in thought. He was trying to piece together the events of the preceding day, and was having a hard time doing it... Kari was nephilim, but no angel had been so inclined to breed in the last six millennia or so. Which implied something particularly foul, which Katiel barely wished to consider... yet, to him, it seemed that was the most likely explanation. It was... not crippling. Though he found his former kin foul in the extreme and knew they were beyond redemption, the human element never ceased to surprise him in these situations. Kari would need to be watched, though. He did wonder why this information was not given to him, but he supposed that there had to be a reason, either for Kari's sake or his own. Nothing happened without a reason.

Soon, they reached the hospital.

- - - - -

"I will do so, of course, but I do not understand your reasoning, limited as I am." a voice assented passionately, the noise echoing with the booming power of a thousand simultaneous thunderclaps. The creature to whom the voice belonged was an immense thing of whirling motion and fire, as large as a star and several orders more glorious. Yet even this mighty thing was dwarfed in majesty by the shrouded figure standing miles below.

"They'll soon need the help, and I have ordained no other angels for this task. They may not be Seraphim, but my blessing will seek them nonetheless. Katiel is a rightfully distrustful soul, and he would never accept it on the word of an equal lest they be lying to him. You know the boy: tell him I wish him well, and give him the bowl." the still, small voice said. With each word, reality pulsed. When this figure spoke, nature groaned, the very atoms of the air longing for fulfilment in those precious breaths. "More importantly, tell Kari I love her. It may not mean much to her now, but I wish her to hear those words."

- - - - -

Katiel held the door of the hospital open for Kari. He was unsure of quite how visitation in such places worked, the rules being so inconsistent from country to country and hospital to hospital. Yet he stood dutifully by, always scanning his surroundings for trouble. He hadn't the time to scope this place out - it was vulnerable. Anyone of these helpers could be in disguise.

Banditry! [WhiteRose and FernStone]

Roran smirked at her slightly. Alianor was kind of cute when she slept - the arrogant displeasure seemed to abate slightly, leaving her looking a damn sight more approachable. He chuckled to himself... watching her slumber was like watching a dog twitching in its sleep and guessing what sort of animal it was hunting. The glaring, furious accusations came back in force once she awoke, but Roran didn't begrudge her the resistance. Gort was right, as he usually was: she had not met favourable circumstances today, and she could not be expected to like their lifestyle so quickly. She would come to see the fun of it, eventually.

Roran offered a hand to Alianor, meaning to take her in the direction of the cave which he made his home. The night air was cold, but as soon as the wooden door closed behind them they were met with the warm, welcoming bosom of the fur-lined place. Roran removed his boots again. He hesitated for a moment, then stripped down further to the underclothes he slept in. Torso now uncovered, several distinctive markings were present on his skin. On his right bicep, an unobtrusive tattoo of his family name, gilded in leaves. On his back, a large set of scars that clearly came from some sort of large beast - larger than a bear, surely, but smaller than a dragon. Over his heart was a brand, burned into his pale flesh: the royal seal, marking him out as a member of the old King's Guard.

"Gort is a good man. You better not ruin that." Ronan nodded, taking up a comfortable position with some of his plump pillows at the base of his back. He threw a couple in Alianor's direction, so she could have something to sleep on too. "Best memory I've ever seen on a man, too... I mean, he's nearly a century old and he's still healthy as ever... and sane. I guess that's what magic does to you though- live a life with mana in your blood, it'll make you lively and smart."

Ronan looked at Alianor. She was a curious person, indeed... but not someone he need worry about. In truth, he was tired too, and the warm fur on the floor was increasingly enticing. A part of him wished to snuggle up beside her, pretty thing that she was. But then, the reason she was in his cavernous bedchamber in the first place was to avoid being subjected to unwanted advances. Soon enough, sleep took him and he stopped worrying about that, too.

- - - - -

The sun rose, and Roran began his morning rounds. He decided to leave Alianor in the cave for a while - she would be safe enough there, and he needed to visit his lieutenants before the day's duties began. He had a plan for her, though. To extract the details of her life, the tiny minutia of courtly breeding, was interesting enough - but what he really wanted was for her to be brought to his level, and for the two to speak as equals. As such, he began preparing things to test her mettle when she woke up that morning.

Banditry! [WhiteRose and FernStone]

"I haven't decided yet." Ronan shrugged, taking back the meat and taking a huge bite from it. The juices dripped down his stubbly chin as the beautiful, warm sensation of semi-melted fat filled his mouth. He took a moment to savour, before he continued to speak in a plain, unassuming tone. "I'm not in the habit of killing women, you're valuable, and you probably wouldn't be able to lead anyone back there. On the other hand... I think this will be a good experience for you. Damusrada, I think it was, who said that all things should be tasted, smelled and touched by those raised in cocoons... or something. Can't say I remember the quote. There was something in there about spiders, I think... anyway, I'll probably keep you around until I get bored of you, then sell you to the highest bidder. Probably your daddy, if he really loves you."

"To those born into a woven-silk cocoon, all things seen, touched and smelled are of benefit for the flourishing of the soul." a gruff, cracked voice spoke softly. One of the larger, uglier, bandits had been listening in to the conversation from a couple of feet to Alianor's left. The man was a brute - utterly hairless, beard and brows shaved along with his scalp, and dense black tattoos which resembled fire snaking across the top of his head and around his jaw. "Damusrada, On Eternal Things."

"Gort gets it." Roran said, holding his hand out in the man's direction triumphantly as if that somehow proved him right about everything in the world. "Hey, bud- how 'bout you explain to the princess what it's like out here. I'm trying to show her the beauty -- the pure, untouched beauty -- of a life the way nature intended. She doesn't get it."

"The woman had her life torn from under her earlier today, I doubt she is in much mind to listen. Leave her be, give her some sleep, and after a few nights under the stars the world will seem different to her." Gort nodded sagely. He looked Alianor in the eye, with a strange mix of sadness and determination evident on his face. "I am sorry for that, and for your horse. Fate may often seem cruel, but the divine shall protect or curse those men according to their souls. Until we join them, we must all find our place in the world-- yours may have changed, or may have not, but it is the test of your person to make good with the situation you are in."

There were a few seconds of silence, as the fire crackled softly. Gort looked into the fire moments later, and continued eating. Roran asked him if his headaches were faring well today, and Gort replied that they had been calmer recently.

The bandits talk and eat in good spirits. Before long, the stars are beginning to rise in the sky.

Hello from the newb

Hi there, welcome to the forums!

Interesting choice of name- a fan of Zero Punctuation? Or a fan of dice games? ;)

This Angel of Mine (WhiteRose and HylianRose)

Allo! I'm back now, and ready to RP. :)

Banditry! [WhiteRose and FernStone]

"Meat is a luxury, but we get enough of it. Anything that wanders close enough to our camp we'll have... wolf meat might seem strange to you, but believe me when I say that no man here would turn down a good leg of dog when he can have it." Roran smiled to himself as he led the woman outside again. The smell of fresh meat had filled the camp - her horse had been butchered well, and quickly, and was now roasting amid various herbs and spices collected from nearby. It's quite a pleasant smell, with some hints of basil and rosemary in the mix. "We send out hunters regularly - they're dressed like ordinary folk, you understand, and could be from any of the nearby towns if asked - but they don't always bring back much. Aside from that we farm various patches of the forest for berries, mushrooms, vegetables that can be made into stews. It's not enough, but it keeps us going. The money from travellers such as yourself doesn't hurt, either, and means we can buy from the locals once in a while."

Roran was not quite sure why he was telling Alianor all this. He supposed, on reflection, he found her amusing. Each new minor revelation, whether it be the dog meat or the poetry, made her wrinkle her nose up in clear, barely disguised distaste. He enjoyed the satisfaction of slowly chipping away at her prissy demeanour, and was wondering how far he had to go before he broke her down to his level. Her father was apparently a sore spot, and he resolved to prod at the subject more following dinner.

"The way I see it, you have to measure good, evil and purpose by your own flesh and blood. Is a wolf who kills a lone traveller evil? No, it's doing what it divinity ordained it to do. And dragons- were they 'evil' for burning towns and collecting magic trinkets? Flames, no- you give a lizard enhanced intelligence and magic breath and it does what you expect it to do. People naturally learn, love, hunt, eat... all of that never needs to be taught, we just know to do it. That's what we're here for. But you and your folk strip yourselves of your humanity - you marry for politics, you memorise the knowledge of others, you have a man-servant to kill your meat and if you could delegate your eating to someone else you probably would too." Ronan frowned. He was rambling a little and was not entirely sure what he meant to say by all this. Eventually he collected his thoughts and finished his tirade with a grumpy grunt. "Makes me bloody sick."

He sat around the fire with some of the other bandits, motioning for Alianor to sit beside him. Some of them looked positively beastly, almost as if they had orkish blood in them - hulking men, disfigured and scarred, with unkempt beards and mucky faces. They seemed in good spirits though, and the horse meat was becoming increasingly more appealing as they watched it turn on the spit. After a little while Ronan stood up, carved off the first hunk, and shouted 'grub's up' before sitting back down. He offered the meat to Alianor before he ate himself.

"You were riding it earlier. Might as well try it." He grinned. He wondered how she would react to the rich, succulent meat in front of her.

Banditry! [WhiteRose and FernStone]

"Don't worry. lady. 'Untoward' is not something I tolerate among my men." Ronan nodded, a grim glint in his eye. To be a bandit was one thing, he thought - bloodshed was another part of life, regrettable but necessary, and property was not as precious as most men perceived. But there were crimes worse than these, necromancy and other violations, which he felt were inexcusable. He had executed more than a few, a the start, who thought that lawlessness was an excuse to indulge whatever dark whim flung itself in their direction. "I don't know what you think of me, lass, but I would hate to come across as a boor. Yes, I can read and write just fine - I'm also a deft hand at animal husbandry and can recite Elysian poetry from memory."

"A good maiden's touch is like the flickering fire of a first fresh snowfall, which lays itself solidly upon the shifting wasteland of the soul.. it is a paradox of peculiar proportions, perfectly presentable and yet foul to the sight of the blind." Ronan waved his hand in the air, imitating the foppish mannerisms of a courtly bard mid-way through a ballad. In truth, he had a soft spot for such romantic nonsense. Ronan was no idealist, but he craved a world in which these contradictory words could be true.

"It's funny, you know - how you think you know me, and how you think you're better than me. I mean, hell, you might be better than me - I'll give you that. You're a damn dainty thing, probably never lifted a finger in your life and certainly never caved a man's head in with the back end of a war-axe. Your daddy though, he's probably a butcher. The rich and powerful only stay that way so long as they make sure that anyone who files grievance is still kept nice and firm underneath their boot." Ronan growled. He wasn't sure quite what it was about Alianor which provoked him - maybe her arrogance, maybe her condescension, maybe that she represented everything the world had taken from him. Maybe he was just tired- that was an option too. He calmed himself after a moment, and paced over to the map Alianor was looking at. "If you can memorise this, you'd have a good chance of finding your way back here you know. Course, I didn't actually mark the camp on there - these old cartographer maps are too pretty. Never did know why they drew such creatures on the borders... maybe they're meant to live here."

Roran sniffed. He could smell dinner - fresh meat, brazed over an open camp-fire. He salivated.

"Have you ever eaten food before? Not double-baked sweet breads, but a bit of muscle carved from a dead thing." Roran smiled sweetly to her. "It's nice, I'll tell you. Part of what we exist for, you know - natural cycle, and all that."

Banditry! [WhiteRose and FernStone]

"Surprisingly, professional stonemasons don't tend to offer their services to people without any means of mining stone. Wood's good, lass. Strong, warm, cheap. It does what it needs to do, and I don't hear any complaining. No - your gold will be keeping us eating like kings for the next year. And if I convince you to take off that ring of yours, maybe two." Ronan smirked. He was surprised that the young noble had thought that 'wearing her ring openly and not mentioning it' would be enough to secrete it from professional thieves. He liked her pluck, though. A bit of harmless defiance made life more interesting - she certainly wasn't the snivelling wreck that many people became, which gave him reason to keep her around. Ronan wasn't an evil man, not really - he'd show mercy to the ones that begged, and if they were friendly enough he might send them on their way with horses intact. But this one looked like she could take some rough treatment. "Come on, I'll show you where you'll be sleeping. I suppose you could call it the king's suite..."

Ronan led Alianor to what looked like a flat wooden door embedded into the side of the cliff the camp was built around. It had a large iron lock keeping it shut, which Ronan unlocked with a key that hung around his neck. Opening the strange portal, he revealed a reasonably large cave that he and his crew had renovated to act as Ronan's private chambers. It was cosy enough - it was clear that at one point the cave had been a stinking reserve of moss, and probably inhabited by a bear or some other large animal judging by the years-dry bloodstains on the walls and floor. Since then the bandits had done a good job of cleaning up. The floor immediately in front of the door was thatched with thick wheat, which Ronan wiped his boots against before taking them off and laying them to one side. The rest of the cave was lined with pelts of varying shapes, sizes and colours, from small black wolves to big brown bears, which gave the place a soft carpeted feel. There was a heavy wooden desk with some chairs off to one side, a map of the surrounding area lying open on it along with some ink pots. In the far back were scattered pillows which Ronan used as a bedplace.

"You'll be sleeping in here with me. Safer that way - they're lovely lads, mostly, but a pretty woman mincing about the place can be distracting. Besides, if you try to shank me in the night I think I'd probably be able to overpower you. What do you weigh? Not more than ten stone-shares, I reckon. Probably throw you if I had to." Ronan narrated the potential violence with a dim, slightly disconnected tone of voice. He didn't seem all to worried about the possibility of having to fight or kill Alianor - it was just a matter-of-fact thing to him, something that needed to be said to clear the air and avoid an awkward explanation later. "I suppose I should introduce myself, no? My name is Ronan. Until further notice, I own you. Behave, and you'll have no problems with me."

Ronan sat down near the pillows, smiling broadly.

Banditry! [WhiteRose and FernStone]

Hi there! Will try to reply later. Just to say, I'll be away over the next few days and probably unavailable. Been busy today too. Enjoying the RP so far!

This Angel of Mine (WhiteRose and HylianRose)

Hiya- sorry for the slightly shorter post. Been real busy today, super tired.. Also might not be able to post over the next couple days as I'm going away. We'll see, but be warned- back Monday.