New to Giralda, I see. Well, it takes all sorts around here. Take that shifty-eyed weasel by the fire.
Oh, he acts looks like a simple merchant, peddling meager wares, but watch what you say around him. The Empire’s got ears everywhere...
See those two there? They seem all chummy now, but that’s only because Var is trying to convince Jarek to desert the navy in Thisbē and join
those lawless bastards who sail from the Spice Isles. I’m sure that one will kill the other before the week is out, once they’ve got what they want from each other.
Then there’s always the usual mercs; bastards who’d happily kill their own mothers for a coin. Oh, they say those twins from Brelan aren’t so bad,
but a merc is a merc, and money is all they see.
At least there're no damned elves here tonight. One got uppity last month when I insisted the
bastard slept in the stables. A damn generous offer for a half-breed, if you ask me!
Mind yourself if you head into the Wilds. It’s full of things that
would happily eat you and shit you out without a second thought. Even the people who hunt those things are more beast than civil.
Anyway stranger,
what'll it be: a room, or a drink?
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CURRENT MONTH: AUREL, 762
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December 2021 Soft hiatus - have a safe, warm, and minimally dysfunctional holiday season!
Post by Vaiva Nine Lives on Jan 27, 2023 11:54:53 GMT -6
VAIVA NINE LIVES
Human, female, thief, 27 years
"Count the lights on empty souls
Quietly behind the doors
Of bleeding us just for fun"
A light breeze rustled through the camp, made the making some tent flap. The line between a bard and a rogue was quite blurred in some cases. Vaiva was not a educated singer, she would never charm anyone with her song, except maybe another crow. Above all, she had no charisma. She would never be invited to sing at court, there were probably more people who would pay her to be silent than for her to sing. But with that said, she sat in front of one of the campfires and sang. Vaiva had a boring evening in a camp, so she had opened a bottle of liquor and now later she were sitting next to one of the campfires and sang. Fortified by the clear liquor.
"Men of power telling lies
Shifty hands and thirsty eyes
And they can smell your fear like blood"
Her voice belonged in a smoky speakeasy, or like here, in front of a campfire. It may be a simple song, written by lowborn, sung in the streets. But that was the kind of songs she knew. Perhaps there was one or two nobles in the company who would disapprove of the choice of certain songs that she sang, but she did not care or think she would have any problem with it. Most of the other were asleep now anyway. But for now, it's only she and her voice. Vaiva looks up to the sky. It's a clear night, she could see the stars and the crescent moon.
"Oh my weary soul
We've met your kind before
Set fire to us all!
And oh sweet providence, Come save us from ourselves From hell and consequence"
There was magic in a bard's song, but in hers there was only anger and pain. Most people who lived on the streets had experienced something of corruption, liars, and war that she sang about.
"Feed the rich and kill the poor
Blow out the lights and just ignore.."
TAG: Open for anyone of the Temple Gang NOTES: The expedition has camped for the night. The night is quiet, the hour is late and some have opened a bottle, while others are sleeping
Post by Valik Rasvadian on Jan 28, 2023 10:17:40 GMT -6
The stars were in full showing tonight and the fire crackled within the middle of camp. There was a peaceful silence about the evening breeze. He found himself looking to the heavens through the black steel helmet; its golden accents sparkling in the veil of silver light. The giant's arms were draped to his sides and hung freely in the air. It was in moments like this that reminded him of his home, minus the brutal chilling winds. A small voice broke the silence and the animal looked down from his tree perch. It was the thief who sat next to the flames with a bottle in her grasp.
Her song talked about blood, men in power. So, standard humanity. His body twisted as he shifted silently in the tree. -Was it silent really?- The wood creaked and cracked with his weight, now hanging upside down; but still about ten feet in the air. It was like he was a creature of the night, drawn to the song as she continued. A heavy hum echoed inside his helmet as he watched her drink and sing. -Liquid courage- The liquid within that bottle had mysterious effects on humanoids, something he'd never experienced before; he couldn't stand the smell.
The wind picked up and adding it plus the metal around his face, it became hard to hear. His left arm reached down and grabbed a branch, letting himself fall from his resting spot. He'd swing out just before letting go, falling for a couple seconds. The iron boots he wore impacted the ground causing dust to waft up. She was still singing and a curiosity still built within his gut. Who was she singing to?
The titan would squat off to her right, just behind her as he listened to the musician tones of her voice. His deep blue eyes peered through the black pits of his helmet as he watched her chin and jaw. The fingers of his left hand pressed into the soil at his feet, breathing calmly but the metal amplified the air leaving his lungs. He'd attempt to move the hair away from her mouth, tilting his skull to the right slightly as he did.
Post by Vaiva Nine Lives on Jan 29, 2023 3:37:16 GMT -6
VAIVA NINE LIVES
Human, female, thief, 27 years
"Do not touch me."
The song came to an abrupt end. There was nothing wrong with her reflexes, she was not that drunk yet. So when his hand starts to hover in her periphery and in the direction of her face, she grabs him by his wrist and pushes his hand away from her. She didn't have very warm feelings for this giant and it was thanks to Kerr that she accepted he was here. If she had her way, they would have left this enormous man in Bergast. Now that he showed that he though he was a man who went up to someone and spontaneously touched people - she liked him even less. What made him think he could put his big sausage fingers in her face like this? And she wouldn't get an answer to that, because he was a mute dumbass. She should have remained at Brinestone, this was a stupid suicide mission, with stupid people she did not want to die for or next to. She glares at him. Putting his head to his side like if he was a clueless puppy made her even more annoyed with him.
"You look stupid when you do that."
She squints at the helmet's eye sockets, that helmet was as empty of emotions as she guessed his head was empty of any intelligent thoughts. Vaiva turns to the fire and tossed in some new wood. They were all going to die, in some unpleasant elvish temple. Vaiva brings the bottle to her mouth, takes a sip, then offers the bottle to the giant.
TAG: Open for anyone of the Temple Gang NOTES: The expedition has camped for the night. The night is quiet, the hour is late and some have opened a bottle, while others are sleeping
Post by Idrial Belinor on Jun 14, 2023 17:18:42 GMT -6
W
ith a sharp intake of air, Idrial startled awake. It was several seconds before she fully registered that she was alone in her tent and that she was safe. That the most recent memories had merely been the stuff of her sleeping mind. “It was only a dream…” the peredhel murmured to herself.
She sat up and breathed long, controlled inhales and exhales until her heart and lungs reached a more even pace. It was not long thereafter that Idrial gave up on going back to sleep anytime soon. The images of her nightmare replayed every time her eyes closed for longer than a blink. She supposed it had been a good thing to have turned in so early if this was all the rest she might have before the next leg of the journey.
Idrial pulled on a tunic and trousers, then went to join the voices still by the fire. Vaiva’s song had just ended as the healer exited her tent and a bottle was being shared with Valik. She offered a polite nod by way of greeting and settled in against a vacant log.
“Will you sing another?” Idrial requested of the other woman. She did not mind Vaiva’s untrained voice, as she was no songbird herself nor connoisseur enough to pass criticism, and was in want of such a distraction as songs or stories around the fire.
Post by Nathaniel Shaw on Aug 26, 2023 0:39:38 GMT -6
I built these walls to hide my ghosts
You trace the wounds exposed.
I try to let you in.
But I fail again and again.
WORDS: 403 || NOTES: Nate joins the late night crew
Inside his tent, Nathaniel sat with some paper and a quill pen, attempting to write a letter in the spare quiet time he had to himself. When he was out in the wilderness like this, it wasn’t often he slept easily. He was on high alert, even when he did sleep, and it made it difficult for him to get the rest he probably needed.
The light of the oil lamp flickered and created shadows, making it obvious that he was still awake. He often kept to himself–even throughout the days–rarely talking or engaging in any of the conversations that happened. He listened though, and spoke when he was spoken to or addressed, of course. Or if he needed to.
The singing voice briefly caught his attention, interrupting the thoughts he was attempting to write down. He was having some difficulty anyway, as evident by the balls of crumpled paper at his feet. Should he even bother? he thought.
“Do not touch me.” Nathaniel heard the words just as the song abruptly ended. Those words typically meant something was wrong, so he quickly sprang to his feet and rushed out of his tent, eyeing the area to see what was going on.
He noticed the large, masked man crouched down by Vaiva. His eyes narrowed and he took a step forward to assess the situation. But it seemed that he had at least listened to her. Hopefully.
There was something about the man that irked Nathaniel. It wasn’t so much the height or size of him. Or the fact that he didn’t speak. (Neither did he, really.) But maybe it was the fact that he hid behind the masked helmet, never showing his face. It made him suspicious and untrustworthy, in his opinion.
He stood there a moment, waiting, and then finally spoke, his intense gaze remaining only on Vaiva. “Everything alright?” he asked.
And then he noticed Idrial stepping out of her tent and approached the small group at the fire. She sat on one of the logs and asked Vaiva to sing another song. Nathaniel signed almost inaudibly. Even if both women were capable of handling themselves– Even if Valik had no ill intentions, Nathaniel couldn’t leave them unguarded or alone.
He moved up to the empty spot next to Idrial and motioned to it. “Mind if I sit here?” He asked quietly.
Post by Nymeria Liao on Aug 26, 2023 1:45:30 GMT -6
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[attr="class","jawntatlyrics02"]Nymeria ___
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Nymeria retired to her camp early so that she could make a written account of the evens that happened earlier that day. There was little to explain, and less to note, besides the colorful people that made up the exploration group. They seemed less like a group hired to do anything, and more like a gaggle of strangers that all happened to be heading to the same place at the same time.[break][break]
Even so, she made note of everything and anything that might prove useful or provide clarification of events that may come to pass. As an academic it was important to keep records and would be something of an account that she could give Nira even if this trip bore no fruit. After she was finished, the young mage laid down to relax but she didn't stay there for long.[break][break]
A calling, one night say and a feeling in her belly as well as in her mouth called her from the comfort of her tent. In short, Nymeria wanted something to eat and what she wanted was sweet rolls. The peredhel had a sweet tooth that would not be denied and it drew her from many places into the world to find the sweetest of foods.[break][break]
The sweet rolls that she loved were only made in Noria, a fact that would have disappointed most in the group, but Nymeria had a power that made time and space less troublesome. In the blink of an eye, she conjured a portal and vanished through it and appeared in Noria's market place seconds later. She'd arrived late in the evening but the vendors had yet to pack up and go home.[break][break]
She took a long stroll just to look around before she ventured to the stall that sold the sweet rolls and bought a bag full along with honeyed wine. The time was late when she returned and her bag was a few sweet rolls short, and the honeyed wine almost half empty. Nymera was on her way back to her tent when she noticed that people had gathered around a campfire. Light steps carried her in no hurry towards the campfire where she had just missed a tension situation. [break][break]
"You all look rather somber. Is it the journey ahead that has you so worried?" [break][break]
Post by Idrial Belinor on Jan 12, 2024 22:11:20 GMT -6
T
he peredhel’s brows raised slightly in silent question as Nathaniel approached her. “Not at all,” she answered unhesitatingly when he requested to sit with her. There was plenty of room, but she scooted over a little anyway as a gesture to further indicate he was welcome to the spot.
Idrial wondered if he was in the mood to converse or if he would keep to himself as he often did. The healer bore some curiosity about Nathaniel. Though they had only formally met on this expedition (as far as she knew), she was aware that they had mutual connections outside of Kerr and Jackson. She wondered if they might have crossed paths in passing or where else their lives might have intersected.
Nymeria had entered the ring of firelight. Idrial’s sensitive nose faintly detected the scent of fresh sweet rolls, though she did not readily place them so far as being from Noria, she had eaten enough to know them anywhere.
She shrugged at the mage’s observation, having missed the earlier tension as well. For Idrial’s part, much of the present company frequently wore such unreadable expressions at all times that she was doubtful she would know the difference between their somber and neutral looks. “Not yet,” she said, with a small smile, clearly only speaking for herself, “Can’t sleep.”
Her gaze flickered to the bag in Nymeria’s hand, then tipped her head to indicate it. “Did you… did you make sweet rolls??” Idrial asked, clearly impressed. She wasn’t angling for one - although she would be delighted for such a treat - but was puzzled as to when and where and how she would have made them out there. For some reason, magic had not yet occurred to her as the most likely source.