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Post by ippo on Nov 3, 2009 0:44:39 GMT -5
I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU BECOME. JUST MAKE SURE YOU'RE A DAMN GOOD ONE. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - "Be careful, and don't stay on the streets too long," the stern-faced elven sentry reiterated. Standing on the cobblestone walkway leading up a winding path along a hill, houses and tenements on both sides of the street towering over them, he stood upright, bow in one hand, clad in dark green leathers. It'd be hard to tell in this light, though, what with a half-moon out tonight, casting a fair glow on the city but overpowered by the streetlights lining the path. "Get home as soon as you can. You should know these streets are dangerous."
"Yes sir, I will sir," the young dark-skinned woman with the shock of blonde hair replied with a faithful nod. Sam was dressed rather pleasantly, a leather brassiere over her shirt, shoulders bare, a skirt to her thighs, and thigh-high stockings covered from the knee down in modest boots. For a plain-looking girl with an honest grin like that, she sure had a sense of fashion. She bowed at the waist again. "Thank you! See you around." With a little wave, she made off up the hill path, the sentry marching in the opposite direction.
Sam didn't expect her casual chat with the sentry to be as long as it was, talking about the whole issue with the crime in Deadwood. Granted, this was a relatively secure section of the city, just a stone's throw from the true upper-class segment of the city. The rangers did a good job protecting the people around here, especially considering the situation in the city. Hands folded behind her head as she trotted up the path towards her current home, her shirt and chest rising ever so much. Well, it's not like she couldn't take care of herself if she were cornered. Still, she couldn't help but admire their work. They have such a hard job. I'd never be a good guard. She shrugged, her hands dropping again. Her home wasn't too far now, and she could use a bit of rest.
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Post by Cachot Maître on Nov 3, 2009 1:11:36 GMT -5
MY FIST IS FULL OF ASHES, AND MY BLOOD IS IN THE GROUND. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - The ship had docked several hours earlier, but the eladrow had made little to no progress in scouting out the city. His mission was a personal one, not one given to him by a gluttonous man with rings too small for his fat fingers. No, Nolofwine was here to escape all that. That, and the fact that not only was Ijs cold, but there was a pretty strong bounty on his head after a failed assassination attempt.
He couldn't help it though. It wasn't his fault that the target just so happened to find a lucky copper piece on the street the moment he let his arrow fly.
Nevertheless, all runaway criminals fled to Deadwood to escape whatever was stalking them, be it taxes or the ghost of your mother-in-law. The latter was kept at bay by the massive prison complex that rested right next to the docks, which harnessed arcane magic so pure in form, and wards kept in constant check, that the creatures of the undead would set alarms off all throughout the city. Along with any other monstrous creature.
He was looking to make things better for himself. To find a widow who owned a tavern, get married, and have a free room until the day she died, then he'd probably leave the city and find a new widow. Though that was his well-known goal to those who assumed they knew him, that couldn't have been further from the truth. The last thing Nolofwine was looking for was marriage, and marrying a human at that. Though, a drow isn't much better either. Nevertheless, Nolofwine was in Deadwood for personal reasons.
Personal reasons he wasn't to sure about.
"I've tried every tavern on this street and the street over. I'd be better off sleeping in the slums."
He grumbled aloud to himself in the drow tongue, which brought a few guards out of their bored trances, into a more alert, diligent stance.
Most humans, elves, and well, any other race, would react to seeing a drow in a negative manner. Though drow were beginning to become more common on the surface, they were still far from trusted. Nolofwine one of the least, thanks to his sire, an eladrin who was raped by Matron F'zhra Melwasul, fully Matron F'zhra Maermonel Wair'z'shezaerul.
Oh how he loathed that name. Maermonel Wair'z'shezaerul. It was nearly impossible to pronounce in the common tongue, and even some of the most schooled scholars and speakers of the drow tongue had trouble saying it properly.
Still though, it was known as one of the noble houses of Menzoberranzan, being ranked fourth on the High Council. Nolofwine was actually the first son of Maermonel Wair'z'shezaerul, though he would never openly claim such a title, unless demanding respect from another drow, which rarely ever happened, if not ever at all.
Still though, noble or not, on the surface, drow were treated like filth. Nolofwine even more so. Rangers were typically misunderstood, and rogues were never trusted. Take a hated drow, and a mysterious eladrin, and make him misunderstood and untrustworthy, and you've got yourself quite a problem.
So far, all the taverns turned him down because of his heritage, or because they were full. Most of the time, it was the former. Still though, Nolofwine thought it to be a fine opportunity to break into one of the middle-class houses and sleep there for the night. Most of these people had guest rooms, and, with his enchanted boots and piwafwi, he would be near impossible to detect, and be out of the house with a good meal before the sun rises.
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Post by ippo on Nov 3, 2009 1:39:33 GMT -5
I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU BECOME. JUST MAKE SURE YOU'RE A DAMN GOOD ONE. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - "Phew. Finally." Sam's two-story home was a nice place, all things considered. Considering her previous, well, home, it was relatively well-off, with all the creature comforts. The door was still locked, thankfully. Lights came on as she stretched again, listlessly undoing the leather top as she shuffled across the floorboards. This was a surprisingly long night, what with just getting off work as a waitress. Crack-crack. Her neck snapped this way and that, getting any kinks out.
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Post by Cachot Maître on Nov 3, 2009 1:46:03 GMT -5
MY FIST IS FULL OF ASHES, AND MY BLOOD IS IN THE GROUND. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - "No... no... n-- wait."
Backtracking, he sized up the house on his left. It seemed simple enough. Not too big, not too small. From the size, there would be more than enough room for him to hide away.
With a quick fey step, he perched himself carefully at a windowsill, pulled his hood up, and stepped through the window into the upstairs room.
Taking a quick look around, he came up with the conclusion that this was the main bedroom, and from the sounds coming from downstairs, whoever owned the house was starting to head towards the stairway.
Thinking fast, Nolofwine enters the closet without making a single sound, thanks to the enchanted boots he wore, which were quite common in the Underdark.
All he could do now was wait. It was late, and the clothes in the closet told him a human female lived here.
She would have to sleep sometime.
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Post by ippo on Nov 3, 2009 2:04:55 GMT -5
I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU BECOME. JUST MAKE SURE YOU'RE A DAMN GOOD ONE. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Sure enough, Sam had trudged upstairs, undoing her clothing along the way. She passed in front of the closet a couple times, her back to it as she stripped in front of her bed, laying the clothes on the bed. An exposed back and an exposed backside showed a very toned and well-built body, not like those twigs people called noblewomen. This woman had muscle, and it showed as she stretched there in the open air, releasing more kinks in her back before shuffling off in some direction, leaving the door ajar. The sound of running water and humming presumed that she was in the washroom, and she would most likely not leave for some time.
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Post by Cachot Maître on Nov 3, 2009 2:20:57 GMT -5
MY FIST IS FULL OF ASHES, AND MY BLOOD IS IN THE GROUND. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - "Damn."
All he could mutter was that single word.
Through the small crack in the closet, he could see her every curve. She was far from scrawny, like most women were these days. How they could shrink themselves to such petite forms without starving to death was a question Nolofwine had been searching for for centuries. Despite most painful rituals women went through to gain their otherworldly beauty, this human seemed naturally blessed with it.
Even to Nolofwine, who found the human race to be below average if anything compared to drow women, in terms of appearance (never personality), this human seemed to be far past his normal expectations he had for any woman, human or otherwise. Her skin was dark, yet bright in the eyes of the ebony skinned elf, and her curves were gracious, while her muscles were well formed, giving her the shape of a warrior, but still hiding underneath beauty, seemingly enhancing it tenfold.
It took him a moment to notice that she had left the room, and the sound of humming and running water broke him out of his trance.
Fey stepping outside of the closet, so not to make any noise by opening it, Nolofwine quickly headed for the door, which was luckily left ajar. Had it not been, the keyhole would have worked as well for another fey step.
A few soundless steps towards the stairs, until disaster struck.
Though his boots made no sound, they did little to lessen his weight. Stepping on an old board, and rattling the house with a vicious squeak, sounding more like the wailing of a banshee to the heightened hearing of the drow, and cautiousness borne of a thief.
He froze for a long moment, then realized if he stayed any longer, and the human had heard the noise, she would be in the hallway to spot him.
Another step made him cringe, as the shriek had increased in volume compared to the other one.
As he lifted his foot from the old resting point, the sudden weight change in the old board squeaked it back into place, while the new old board went down more with all the weight on one foot, only to rise slightly as his foot, which was in the air, stepped down on another old board, resulting in a squeak, followed by a squeak.
At this point, he was about to go mad, and only ten seconds had passed!
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Post by ippo on Nov 3, 2009 2:33:28 GMT -5
I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU BECOME. JUST MAKE SURE YOU'RE A DAMN GOOD ONE. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Sam lounged in her tub, melting her tenseness in the warm bath water. While not scrubbing herself yet, she merely deigned to mellow in that tub, the clear water rippling slightly as her chest rose and fell, lightly disturbing the water. Man, life couldn't get any better tha--
Crrrreeeeeeeaaaaak.
Eyes flashed open. She may not have ears like an elf, but her hearing was keen enough, and the sound of her floorboards disturbed her. She had this house to herself, that was a fact.
Something else was here.
Not willing to let onto the fact that she was privy to another's presence, she eased herself out of the tub, taking dainty steps onto the tile beneath her. A white towel tied over her chest, covering her from just above the areola to just enough to cover the whole of her behind. Are the towels always this small? She shrugged as she carefully made her way out into her bedroom, hands unconsciously balled into half-fists. Slowly and meticulously, with artful steps as though she were trained in certain footwork, she made for the main hall and stairwell, hoping it was merely a stray cat that had gotten inside somehow.
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Post by Cachot Maître on Nov 3, 2009 2:39:46 GMT -5
MY FIST IS FULL OF ASHES, AND MY BLOOD IS IN THE GROUND. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - "Cha'kohk ussta l'puul ap'zen!"
He whispered harshly to himself as he fey stepped down to the bottom of the stairs. Traveling this much took a toll on him, and he would need a few minutes of rest before he could step again. Still though, everything seemed quiet enough.
Drip.
Water falling from wet hair, onto the floorboards upstairs, right next to the stairway.
She had heard him.
Thinking fast, Nolofwine did the first thing that came to mind. Calling upon his innate abilities of levitation, he slowly hovered up to the ceiling, resting hands on hilts, and waiting for the human to come downstairs.
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Post by ippo on Nov 3, 2009 2:49:58 GMT -5
I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU BECOME. JUST MAKE SURE YOU'RE A DAMN GOOD ONE. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - The blonde beauty rounded the corner, towel flowing behind her but remarkably holding in place. Interesting how censorship works. She was all set to swing a punch at whoever was there--
--only to find nothing actually there.
Her brow furrowed in visible confusion. Was she delusional? She certainly heard something, unless the warm water was getting to her and making her imagine things. She even shook her head once to make sure no cobwebs had nestled in her skull. Still, she was perturbed, unsettled. She had to check, just to be sure. Her steps down the stairs were methodic and rhythmic, a creak every so often when stepped in the right place.
Tump. Tump. Tump.
Once in the main atrium, eyes roved about, looking for anything seemingly out of place. She took wandering steps, looking at things from different vantage points. Anyone looking upon her from above would see little more that a head of short blonde hair and a glorious set of cleavage, the very front tip only covered by the fabric of the towel.
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Post by Cachot Maître on Nov 3, 2009 2:58:18 GMT -5
MY FIST IS FULL OF ASHES, AND MY BLOOD IS IN THE GROUND. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - He had disabled his levitation spell, drawn both swords, and held them neatly at her throat, his front to her back, and his lips to her ear, all done in an instant, without a sound.
"Xuat mumbaro. Usstan xuat ssinssrin ulu elgg dos."
Whispering ever so softly in the native tongue of the drow, it took him a moment to realize that he was even speaking it. Having cursed his bad luck moments before, he broke the habit of speaking only common.
"Don't move. I don't want to kill you."
With the translation all said and done, he slowly pulled his swords away from her throat, and stepped back to allow her to turn around.
Looking at him, you'd see fairly little. Black leather armor, drow designed, two swords kept at his sides, a bow over his shoulder, a quiver attached to his side on his belt, and a black cloak with the hood up.
Underneath the hood though, there was no mistaking the ebony colored jaw. Despite the shadow being cast by the hood, two sets of pure red eyes shone clearly. Pupil-less. Void of any color but red.
As were must eladrin eyes, only the color came from his darker kin.
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Post by ippo on Nov 3, 2009 3:11:02 GMT -5
I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU BECOME. JUST MAKE SURE YOU'RE A DAMN GOOD ONE. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Time seemed to freeze. She was locked in a stasis, overcome by something that kept her from reacting to the blades at her throat. She was nearly hyperventilating, she was shocked so badly. Eyes strained at her peripheral vision to see who was behind her, to no avail. Then, a tongue she was not familiar with, but definitely spoken by a male. Then, fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it, he spoke again in common, speaking of coming in peace. Irritated, her brow knitted.
"And you say that with steel at my throat," Sam snapped, audibly bothered. At the sight of the blades withdrawing, she slowly turned on a foot to look upon the intruder, still complaining. "Mixed message if I ever heard one." She looked down upon the hooded figure in black leather, the uniform of choice, it seemed for any intruder or assassin or simply a poor, brooding soul. But that skintone, and those eyes. Was he...?
"Who are you?" she demanded of him, turning her chin up. The steel at her neck a couple seconds ago still shook her a bit. "And what are you doing in my house?" The towel still held, unsurprisingly. You'd think he had a mind to snip it off or something. Pervert.
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Post by Cachot Maître on Nov 3, 2009 3:22:08 GMT -5
MY FIST IS FULL OF ASHES, AND MY BLOOD IS IN THE GROUND. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - "The former is of no importance, but, if you must know, I am Nolofwine Melwasul, of Maermonel Wair'z'shezaerul, Fourth Ruling House of Menzoberranzan."
He grimaced underneath the hood at the title he addressed himself with. A single hand rose to find the hood, and it slowly pulled it back, revealing the handsome elvish features, and long white hair.
"It's probably quite obvious what I am. Though, if you were to say it aloud, you'd only be half right."
As confusing as that statement was, he let it end there, expecting it to make perfect sense.
"As for the latter, I'm here to rest and eat. I didn't intend in disrupting your bath. You should really have those floors checked out."
He crossed his arms over his chest and took a few steps back to lean against a wall. He treated the whole situation casually, and without any pupils to give clues as to where he was staring, she would only be able to guess if he was looking at her cleavage.
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Post by ippo on Nov 3, 2009 3:30:27 GMT -5
I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU BECOME. JUST MAKE SURE YOU'RE A DAMN GOOD ONE. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Lips pursed inward as she took stock of the drow in front of her. Sure enough, he was a drow all right. She'd only heard so many stories about the goings-on of the Underdark. Only now did she ever actually lay eyes upon one. It was rather fascinating, but what did he possibly mean by "half-right?" Shaking it off, she crossed her arms in front of her, directly underneath her breasts. The towel appeared to be teasing him, revealing nothing to him. Back to her senses, she glowered at him.
"In case you haven't noticed," Sam began to lecture him, "this is a private house, not a lodge. There's plenty of inns across Darkwood that you can inquire at. Lodging aside, I may have given you something if you merely knocked on my door and asked politely, instead of breaking into a house and drawing a weapon upon the owner. Some first impression you made." She puffed her cheeks at him. That was a damn good bath this guy had the nerve to interrupt! Now she was getting cold!
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Post by Cachot Maître on Nov 3, 2009 3:38:36 GMT -5
MY FIST IS FULL OF ASHES, AND MY BLOOD IS IN THE GROUND. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Really now? He hadn't thought of that.
Sarcasm aside, Nolofwine took a few steps forward then pointed towards the staircase. "Your bath is gonna get cold if you leave it arguing with me forever. I'm pretty damn stubborn, so I'll save you the trouble. Mind pointing me to the guest room?"
His gaze trailed down to her breasts, though the lack of anything but red in his eyes did well to disguise that. Still though, he fought to keep eye contact with her.
"As for the threat, I couldn't take any chances. Where I come from, women are far more dangerous than any male." He had been on the surface for who knows how long, and in the Underdark for even longer. In a place like Deadwood, one couldn't afford to find lodging anywhere. For the price had a good chance of changing from gold to your life.
In the Underdark, things were the same, but on the surface, if you found someone you could trust, you were safe until you needed to betray them.
"I am sorry though. Hope I didn't startle you too bad."
He winked casually, then folded his arms over his chest again, a common sign of peace among the Underdark, and a habit that was hard to break.
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