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Post by terralventhe on Jun 7, 2011 20:08:12 GMT -5
MISSION TITLE: Some Taken, Others Lost MISSION COORDINATOR(S): Orias PARTICIPANTS: Nova and Theron LOCATION: Europe, a village named Cocină (Hogsty), placed on the mountain border of the d'Metreon Sovereign Barony. DETAILS: The report was filed by one Demli Koshji, a local of the village, expressing a need for direct intervention. He claims that several of the village's children have been abducted by monsters, along with whatever search parties sent out after them not having returned. Claiming that the local Barony has remained unresponsive to the outcries of the villagers, forcing them to seek help from outside sources, Demli contacted Shibusen seeking aid. Due to the nature of the matter, it can be assumed that a potential Kishin Egg is at work here, though if it proves to be a simple matter of monster extermination, proceed as is customary. NOTE: Due to the fact that this is being undertaken without the express permission of the Sovereign Barony, consider this mission to be unofficial to avoid any political blowback. It also goes without saying thus that undertakers of the mission are encouraged to keep a fairly low profile. Since direct entrance into the village is impossible without the express permit of the d'Metreon Sovereign Barony, it is recommended that those undertaking this mission enter through the border directly and make their way to the checkpoint town of Cojitor Trece (Barker Pass) and proceed to Cocină from there. REWARDS: 125 Points + Item S̵ÒM͜E̶ ̛T̀AKEN, ̵ÒTHE͡RS̕ ̨L̸OST͜ Current Music: [HERE]Current Ambience: [Forest], [Truck][/right] --=~=-- It was cold. Despite the particular time of the year, this part of the world was still fairly miserable and cold, a bitter, chilling fog hanging over the road with the sky stained by bleak and equally miserable-looking grey skies overhead. To the left of the road, thick, gnarled forests of black and brown trees wove around each other, a fair few openings leading off into the greens and greys of the dark woodlands. On occasion, a bird would chirp and let itself be known, though even the bird's chirping sounded like it was dreading to be heard, a desperate, fearful cry to see if anyone else of its kind was out there, followed by a painful pause until a response came from afar. To the right, the swamp lay beyond the road. A bit of gravel, followed by a lot of peat and moss and even more weeds, leading to a brownish-green bog that stretched out far, far outward, with only the faintest of black silhouettes cast against the fog to show that the swamp did not go on forever. Though the distance was not all that great, a mere few hours on a rowboat at best, nobody ever ventured out onto the boggish waters. None ever said why, merely heeding the words of their elders due to the knowing fear in their eyes when they spoke of it. It was really, damned cold. The beat up old pickup truck with the wood-framed bed rattling at the back trudged along on old wheels that looked like they would give out any second now, dirt and muck from the wet, sloppy roads being thrown about as it strained to keep going, its engine spluttering and choking on its own fumes as thick, black billows of smoke vomited out of its exhaust pipe. The truck itself looked like it was an antique, and not of the admirable sort. In friendly, complimentary terms; if the truck was a person, it'd be a miserable, beaten and battered homeless person using a trolley with three wheels as a walking frame, whilst smoking expired cigarettes and choking up smoke all over the place. In friendly, complimentary terms. The bed itself was hardly made for creature comforts, and the creatures on board would be able to tell as such. Loaded half-full with stacks of hay and a few cardboard boxes labeled 'canned food', the rest of the bed barely had enough space for the iron-wire cages used to contain the several clucking and gabbling hens - and a lone goose - stacked with their cages one atop the other and fastened with twine. Amidst the unhappy feathered passengers a lone dog rested, its tongue lolling lazily. The dog, named Păduche, was a mutt, its fur ragged and messy, colored mottled grey with a few hints of black from days when it used to be young and less of a misery to behold. Păduche stretched a few times, panted and let out a pitiable whine as it started to crawl along the hay-covered floor of the bed towards the haystacks, where the other two remaining passengers would be nestled in, trying to stave off the chill with little more than a meager blanket - formerly the grand, four-poster bed of the mutt - as the dog approached and tried to climb onto it, tongue wagging and slobber flying all about as it shook a few times, trying to shudder off the chill in the air. It was really, damned, bloody cold. The driver, a local, in the meantime sat pleasantly within the heated confines of the driver's seat, pleasantly unawares of the biting chills outside thanks to one of the rare commodities one found in the d'Metreon Barony: air conditioning. Blessed only unto those with cars, which were in their own right golden chariots granted only to those few selected as supply runners, the pickup truck that any modernized person would consider scrap was a symbol of the outside world, of warms and ease of transport, and a lingering reminder of what would never be attained by any within these lands, save for a select few. The driver shuddered once, and turned up the heat in the car, looking momentarily into the sideview mirror to ensure that his carge had not fallen off, and then continued on. Being late was not an option. The cargo would be delivered to Cojitor Trece, or else the driver would find himself quickly back in the fields, cutting what little wheat could grow, or gathering berries out in the gnarled, imposing forests, his warm, comfortable seat handed over to some whelp instead. It was really, damned, bloody, frightfully cold. The truck jolted once, hitting a pothole and causing Păduche to let out a low, murmuring yelp as he was tossed into the air once, the twine effectively doing its job of keeping the poultry's cages firmly in place despite bouncing the hens around a few times. The driver was picking up speed.. ..and in the distance of the fog, just slightly so out of sight, the dim lights of Cojitor Trece glowed, beckoning whoever foolish enough to traverse this far into the Barony.
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Post by nova on Jun 10, 2011 14:37:58 GMT -5
When Nova had taken this Mission with the reluctant Theron in tow, she was sure the transport couldn’t be as bad as in Fall River. That rickety old truck was probably the worst thing she’d ever had to travel in, and was sure that it couldn’t get any worse than that. Oh how wrong she was. This time they didn’t even have a window, or a roof for that matter. She’d already done her complaining anyway, before this long and bitter journey. Nova gave up complaining after it became obvious that nothing would change. This was as good as it got around here. This was not how she had pictured Romania when she’d met Theron.
At first, being in such ‘close commons’ with Theron in the back of the truck had been slightly awkward but she’d gotten used to it soon enough, and was just thankful for what little heat she was getting. Although, it wasn’t doing much in the way of actually keeping her warm and her Dad could never find out or he’d kill her partner on the spot in rage. The Demon Chakram was turning blue and vapours of steam rose from her mouth with every exhaled breath. It was damned cold. She’d grown up and spent all of her life running around under the hot Death City sun, this was probably as cold as she’d ever been before. How she had gotten to sleep in the first place was something of a mystery on a bumpy road like this, but she was a deep sleeper. In an attempt to say a little warmer, she subconsciously turned over onto her other side towards the closest heat source: Theron, and snuggled into him, shivering still. Although, Nova didn’t know that right now. She was sound asleep, dreaming of her next meal. Hopefully consisting of one Lasagne tasting Kishin Soul! Nova shuffled and snuggled a little more. It was still too cold!
Nova was slightly woken from her sleep when their doggy companion tried to get in with them. The animals breath felt like fire against her icy skin and shook her brain into re-start. However, it didn’t wake her up, and she still didn’t know she was snuggled into her partner like a pillow. Her brain was partially convinced he was a pillow, and that breath belonged to Fox. Everything else was just weird. The smoke…someone was having a barbeque in her bedroom, yet the air around her was cold. The bumpy road was an earthquake…but that didn’t really make a lot of sense. And someone had brought her a bunch of Chickens as a joke present, but it wasn’t near her birthday yet and Christmas had passed. Thank God. She also didn’t know, in that sense, why she was wearing a long coat, hoodie, two shirts, a couple of belts, jeans and hiking boots, and was still freezing her ass off.
It took her a moment to wonder, her eyes closed, not quite sure what was going on. When…
THUDUNK
The truck hit a pothole and Nova was literally shaken from her sleep. She didn’t react much but her bright blue eyes darted open, revealing a foggy sky with ominous looking trees looming above. Then she saw Theron. Or rather, how close she was to Theron, and despite the bitter chill, went a bright shade of red. Looking a little awestruck, she just stared at him for a little while. More than was comfortable given the present situation. Then she scowled, and turned back over to face a drooling and messy dog. Nova wasn’t sure what was worse. She sighed ”So…how are you doing?” Nova was too cold to complain, and she was too cold to move right now. ”I myself am freezing cold…” Then she shivered again. It was really damned cold and she hated it. Hopefully they managed to complete this Mission and make this worth her ‘suffering’. Nova didn’t really say much more. The cold woke her up, sure, she didn’t feel very sleepy, but it felt like thousands of tiny bugs were biting at her skin. Nova looked over her shoulder. She was colder now, that was for sure. She thought for a moment.
The Weapon turned back over and huddled into Theron again. ”Nothing personal…your just warm…ish, so don’t get any ideas…” Nova sounded almost lazy, the temperature was slowing her down and she just didn’t feel like doing much at all. Nova hoped Theron didn’t mind her using him as some kind of water bottle or heater. She also hoped he didn’t get awkward. It was so unnerving when he got awkward…
Word Count ~~ 771
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Post by theron on Jun 12, 2011 23:59:46 GMT -5
"Reluctant" barely began to describe it.
When Theron had first spotted this mission on the board it had been quite by accident, simply walking down the hallway to his next class. He had, in fact, walked right past it... only to do a double-take upon seeing the words 'Romania' and 'local Barony' out of the corner of his eye. The reaction was an unforgivable breach of his typical highly-controlled demeanor and, to save face in front of the few who'd overseen, he walked up to the posting, pretended to look it over for a moment, then shook his head dismissively and walked on.
Ten minutes later, when the halls were empty, he'd returned and quietly plucked the mission request off the wall. Stuffed into a book bag between 'Resonance Theory' and 'World Languages' he'd done his best to forget about it altogether... and failed. The intention had been to keep anyone else from "connecting the dots" -- anyone who knew him, or even knew of him, and saw the words 'd'Metreon Sovereign Barony' would instantly know more than the young prince was comfortable with, and the timely theft of the call for help had narrowly averted that very real possibility. And yet...
He'd ended up reading it, late that night after unsuccessfully trying to sleep. The request itself was mostly what he'd expected, yet the fact that it existed at all -- that his family had let a writ of this nature leave their borders -- was jarringly at odds with so very many things. He himself had only been able to leave the Sovereign Barony using an old, long-forgotten escape route, a natural cavern behind a waterfall whose half-flooded tunnels were part of an underground river. It had been hard enough for a family member with all the privileges of fear and authority to leave those close-watched borders; getting a letter out, especially something like THIS, should have been simply impossible. That, and the fact that most of his siblings would see hunting such a dangerous thing as was implied therein as decent sport or, at least, a fair way to pass the time, set every single instinct in Theron's mind into a nameless, nervous dread.
Two days later, he'd placed the mission request on the receptionist's desk. He didn't know it at the time, but Theron had been pale and slightly jittery as he'd requested the mission be assigned to him, and him alone. But somehow it had been filed for both Theron and Nova. It had never been his intention to drag her out here into what he felt certain was either a trap or a sadistic test... but when he'd tried to dissuade her the words simply wouldn't come. As much as he hated to admit it, that tiny slip of paper had filled him with terror... and, though the wiser part of his mind warned against involving her in d'Metreon affairs, it was... comforting... to have her at his side now.
”So…how are you doing? I myself am freezing cold…”
He didn't actually say anything to answer her question; Nova had known from the outset that something about this mission had her partner good and thoroughly spooked. It had been less than a week since he'd told her about his family -- not the Reckoning, but virtually everything else -- that day in the woods when Soul Resonance had finally clicked between the two of them. She wouldn't even need to sense his soul to know Theron was distracted and "concerned"; before leaving Death City the Romanian had completely abandoned his usual ensemble, cape sword and all. Now he wore an outfit that was notable only for how mundane it looked -- faded dark-gray jeans, a nondescript black hoodie under a slate-colored rain slicker, old-looking black sneakers and, strangest of all, a dark gray baseball cap. Theron NEVER wore hats, even when he dressed down. It couldn't be more obvious that he was trying not to be recognized.
”Nothing personal…your just warm…ish, so don’t get any ideas…”
He nodded quietly. "The only ideas I'm thinking about right now are how we can get done here and leave as fast as possible." He was long since acquainted to the unseasonable cold fronts that sometimes swept in, though not to the extent where it didn't bother him. As much as he tried not to think about it, the gentle flow of warmth from Nova was as reassuring for him as it was for her. He was glad she came with him... though he regretted bringing her out into a place so rife with fear and danger.
Nothing could be done for it now. All they could do was trust in each other... and hope to see the morning.
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Post by terralventhe on Jun 13, 2011 12:02:00 GMT -5
The truck bounced again, this time tossing the mutt further up along the bed, all but landing on top of the Weapon as it wagged its tongue and tried to paw its way around nuzzling and rubbing up to her for some additional warmth. Evidently even a dog's fur wasn't cutting it all too well in this weather.. Păduche simply took that chance then to drop itself on the foreign girl's lap and opened its jowels wide, the mutt's tongue rolling back a bit as it let out a lazy, shivering yawn, followed by a small sneeze and a shaking of the head, flicking damp droplets from its ears at the Meister and his Weapon. Outside the truck, if the two of them looked out, they'd see how the forest only seemed to thicken at times, its wild and unkept nature only broken up by the occasional footpath that seemed to stick out of the road and lead into the woods, only to be swallowed up by darkness. On the other side, the swamp remained.. swampish. Still, murky and lifeless.. If there was in fact any life within that miserable bog, it would surely be underneath the surface. Something squawked loudly, as if something had caught it and quickly squeezed the life out of it. Birds fluttered from the trees as if to escape sharing the fate of whatever had been aught, as Păduche lifted his head in response, and looked towards the forests with a wary growl, before resting his head on the girl's lap again and then continuing his lazy demand for shared heat. The ride was going to be a fairly long one still, it felt like, with many more bumps along the way. --=~=-- Cojitor Trece[/center] Current Music: [HERE]Current Ambience: [Village], [Truck][/right] To say that Cojitor Trece was a backwater ditch would be an understatement. Despite of, or perhaps as a result of, being the checkpoint which seperated the outside world from the barony's innermore regions, the border town did very little to seem like a welcoming place with its muddy dirt and gravel roads, not a form of transport in sight that wasn't propelled forth by horses or mules, and the attire of people which made them seem like they hadn't ever set foot outside of the Dark Ages.. The people of this town lived in fear. Fear of their rulers, fear of those their rulers had appointed as their keepers in this town, fear of the things that lurked outside of the town, in the darkness and the forests at night. Fear was what kept them in check, for there could be no other reason for why anyone would choose to live in the decrepid, rundown ramshackles called homes in this town, made of wood and rusted nails, with thatched roofs, some full of holes. This fear was made even more evident by the dangling reminders just outside of town, where whatever poor sods had been hung from a withered and wretched-looking tree. Perhaps they deserved it, perhaps they did not. People in this town rarely stopped to ask, contented to know that it was simply not them dangling a few feet from the grass by their necks. The town was not a ghost town, though, not by any means.. children played in the dirt with their wooden puppets and ragdolls, leaping into puddles to the dismay of their mothers, whilst the local butcher tried to make the best of the recently slaughtered swine hanging outside of his workplace, in spite of the flies already starting to gather around it. Men carried straw baskets of goods, and planks of wood to mend fences, as a few people looked up at the tell-tale sound of the rickety truck coming down the dirt road. Supply day was always on everyone's mind. The canned goods were one of the rarities afforded to the people of Cojitor Trece, as a sort of appeasement prize for being the barony's checkpoint, though rare was the occasion when the supplies brought in were ever enough. As the truck rolled into town, a handful of people had already gathered towards it, pleading eyes focused on the bed at the sight of poultry and stacked cardboard boxes.. ..at least until they spotted the pair sitting amidst the hay. Visitors were rare around these parts. Almost as rare as the idea of anyone ever leaving the barony, as suspicious eyes fixed on them, unfriendly murmurs all about as the people whispered in their hushed, foreign voices. The driver got out of the truck, quickly followed by a panting Păduche that leapt from the bed to follow his master. The man and his dog trudged along the mud and the dirt and headed towards a rather large, fat man with a shaved head and a series of tattoos reached up along his neck from his chest beneath his filthy shirt. As the men exchanged words, the crowd's whispers and stares only grew more and more pensive, more strained, as the unwelcome air only seemed to grow thicker and tenser by the second.
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Post by theron on Jun 14, 2011 10:03:18 GMT -5
It was just about the welcome he'd expected, truth be told. Though this town -- if it could be considered such -- was by far one of the better off it was still technically one of the cocioabă, the "shanties", a desolate and needy area of hovel settlements that had been in existence for centuries. The shanties were the d'Metreon vision of hell, a place purposefully stripped of all but the barest necessities, populated with people who sometimes went savage simply because it was the only way left for them to live. Most castles had moats and high walls as their first line of defense... but the d'Metreon estate had this instead, a population of the seemingly weak and unarmed who would resort to barbaric acts of savagery to get anything, especially basic provisions, from the outside world. It was like having a hungry attack dog chained up in the front yard.
An involuntary shudder crept up his spine as he felt their gazes fall on him. As a child, he'd been told stories by his father and siblings; the tale of princess Fela d'Metreon who had survived the Reckoning by swearing loyalty to her older sister Candrna, only to be caught poisoning her food; of prince Masale Videis who had, after a failed bid for the throne, been forced to walk from the castle towards the border stripped of all noble garments and with a chain of sausages bound around his neck like a noose, of prince Isesen who'd foolishly tried to flee after his sword arm was cut off during his Reckoning. All had met their end here, at the hands of desperate people eking out a desperate living on whatever scraps their masters sent their way. Fear and distrust rand deep in the shanties... but so did resentment. A fallen d'Metreon, stripped of rank, privilege, and weapons, would not last long against the vulgar multitudes.
It was a miracle, he realized, that these people weren't all Kishin Eggs by now.
"Show no fear. Stay close, and keep an eye out for attacks." Theron whispered to Nova, pulling the hat down a little closer over his head. "These people... are not to be trusted."
He spared a glance towards where the driver had gone, quickly spotting the important-looking man he was conversing with. 'Perhaps that's Koshji come out to meet us.' Theron wondered. Then again, it could just be whoever was in charge of the checkpoint. "Koshji" was another point of uncertainty in this whole mess -- the name certainly wasn't Romanian, and although it could have been an Oriental servant family who'd fallen out of favor the uncommonness of it set the young d'Metreon ill at ease.
He gestured over towards the two men talking. "Let's see how this pans out before we think about leaving the truck." He was sure Nova was eager to get up and stretch her legs, as was he, but there was no sense taking chances with the visibly upset mob that was flocking around them.
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Post by nova on Jun 15, 2011 18:33:40 GMT -5
After her rather meek attempt at conversation, she realised it probably wasn’t best right now, and so, with her new, overly friendly, canine companion snuggled up with them, she decided that maybe another few hours of sleep was in issue. Nova was feeling bad for her partner. He really, really, didn’t want to be here. Maybe taking this mission was a good idea, however. In a way Nova just wanted him to know he wasn’t alone and that she was there if need be. Nova sighed, and shut her eyes. The rumbling of the truck distanced, and she fell, once again, to sleep, until the truck would finally pull into town.
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Drip, drip, drip… Nova touched the cold stone wall with a single finger. A blinding flash of light. Bam. The force pushed her away. Tripped, and fell. It was silent again. She swallowed once. Getting up onto her feet again. Her breathing heavy, frightened. She was alone. She didn’t want to be alone. It scared her. Fear. So much fear.
Drip, drip, drip… The wall before her…something had changed. She reached out her hand again. An eye shot open. She screamed and backpedalled. It stared at her. ‘H…HEY! W…what are you looking at!’. Silence. Red, blood shot. She tried to be brave. She wasn’t. It stared. Right. Through. Her. Into. Her soul. Somehow, it looked almost interested. Nova was confused. She didn’t know. What was going on.
Drip, drip, drip… Hundreds of them. Eyes. All along the wall. Eyes. Judging her. Opening. One. By. One. Staring her down. Murmurings. If eyes could murmur. About her? Maybe. It grew louder. Faint whispers. She grew paranoid. Uncomfortable. Stressed. Every wall, eyes. Red and horrid. Looking at her. Glancing at one another. Faster they looked. The louder their judgments. Nova was dizzy. She was feeling sick. Like her Soul was being pulled from her chest…
Drip, drip, drip…
The noise stopped. The movement stopped. They stared at her. One by one. They closed. All of them. Silence. And then. Sound again. Rising. Rumblings. The earth shook. Shook Nova to the ground. Her heart beat faster. Everything moved. Rocks fell around her. Randomly falling away. The wall before her. It moved. Cracking. Defining a shape. It fell away. Two poison eyes. And a friendly Glasgow Smile. Her blood ran cold. Her veins froze. Her heart stopped.
Drip, drip, drip… It hissed. It smilled. It pulled itself away. From Rock. Her Demon. Tower above her. Smiling. A Glaswegian smile. Burning ember eyes. It appeared like rock. Ragged like rock. It was. An arm of stone. She was cornered. Backed up the wall. She was shaking. Her eyes reddening. It reached out. Grabbed her throat. ‘L…let…me…go..’. It smiled. Boiling cold. It hurt. It said nothing. The rumbling continued. She tried. She fought. She wasn’t strong. Enough. ‘Wh…what…will y…you do…to…me…’. Her neck burnt.
Drip, drip, drip… Feel it burning. Smell it burning. It hurt. Her voice hoarse. It pressed her down. Into the stone. Sharp. Dagger sharp. It hurt. Nova winced. It smiled. It grinned. It smirked. A laugh. ‘The sssssame thing I did to them..’. It hissed. She cried. It hurt. Scared. She looked. The ceiling. ‘Sssssspil all your bloooodd…’ An Emerald looking back. Droplets of red. Metalic. It hurt. She screamed. It grinned. Its claws on her neck…
SSSSSSSNAP.
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Nova's eyes shot open. Her breathing was heavy and her eyes stung. She could hear her heart beating in her ear. Then the cold bit her skin and she was awake again. Her hand felt numb, knuckles white, clutching at the fabric of Theron's clothes. The Demon Weapon sighed, calming herself. It was only a dream. Again, it was only a dream. She had been woken up by a particularly large bump. That was great timing. Maybe the stress was getting to her. Luckily, by now, Nova knew how to get over the movement from dream to reality. And the bitter cold seemed to help as well.
Apparently they had arrived as well. At least that cold take her mind off of things. Kinda. Although, when the first thing you see is basically a hangman's tree, it didn't do her wonders. And Theron was obviously even more uncomfortable. And it was weird to see him dressed in something that wasn't a cape and sword. He hadn't even brought Sangfroid so if anything dodgy happened to either of them...well. She didn't want to think about it. She didn't want to think about a lot. Nightmares still rung in her head. She still wondered if it would ever stop. She swore it was going to drive her crazy one day. Nova was still slightly tensed from it and awkward.
It also seemed that this place was less developed then she had ever imagined. So this was what his family ruled over? From here, she didn't see how anyone would want it. If he was different from them then she could see why he hated them so much. If what she gathered from the surrounding area did actually help in trying to figure out what his family was like.
"Let's see how this pans out before we think about leaving the truck." Nova shuffled under the blanket. "Ok...I'm fine with that." Nova wasn't speaking a lot now. Probably less then before. All she wanted was a cup of tea to set her nerves at ease. First an inconvenient Nightmare followed by this lovely place was throwing her out of it.
Word Count ~~ 914
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Post by terralventhe on Jun 17, 2011 12:15:00 GMT -5
A few dogs barked in the brief distance, somewhere within the small village. The murmuring crowd not-withstanding, some people seemed to be too preoccupied with their daily routines to speculate on strangers as it were, as the pair would be able to see a handful of villagers crossing along the muddy 'street' and carrying their work tools and the likes. The crowd continued to mutter, however, in their own thick-accented foreign tongues that would be unfamiliar to the Weapon, though obviously known to the Meister. Though too low to make out initially, terms and phrases like 'outsiders' and 'keeping an eye out' cropped up on occasion.
Another dog barked, though this time fairly close by, as on this occasion it was Păduche that did so, the mutt lowering its head and letting out a small growl at the large, fat man whom his master, the driver had been speaking to. The man, dressed only just slightly better than the rest of the villagers, shoved the driver aside and looked at the dog with a spiteful expression, before kicking it aside - Păduche letting out a wounded yipe in turn - and starting to trudge along towards the bed of the truck. The villagers, despite having plenty of distance between themselves and the truck, shuffled a few steps further back as if to give the man his space.
"Salutări." Came the thick accented voice of the man, gruff and sounding more than a little rustic. Up close, the man was a hardly pleasing sight. His nose was swollen and large as if it had been broken and mended the wrong way several times over, a nasty gash across his cheek having healed poorly in the cold, leaving a deep ridge in his face. When he walked towards the truck's bed, the tell-tale clink of a morningstar - of which he made no effort to conceal - rattled against his leg, hanging from a chain on his belt, "How may I be welcoming you to our small trading post, ah?" He asked, changing to English as he evidently expected them to be foreigners. Even speaking in another tongue, the accent was unmistakably thick, often mangling the attempt to speak in another tongue.
No sooner had his welcome been sounded, though, than a few peasants, three in total, dressed in little more than leather vests and sporting meager leather gauntlets with a few metal plates trudged in, shoving men, women and children alike aside as they stood around the truck, looking to the fat man as if he was their leader. Each of them wielded a pike and a rusted half-excuse for a sword dangled from their belts, looking ready to use either weapon at their leader's behest.
"Please, do not mind my guards, ah? They are.. formality." He said, a distinctive charisma in his voice that showed he at least knew how to play to a crowd, though from the looks he gave the surrounding villagers, his game seemed more in line with playing on fears than anything else, "I am hoping that you will simply answer my questions, and then you can be on your way without being needing any escort back to the border." He cracked a grin at that, as if he had said something rather amusing.
Pausing for a while longer, he began to move closer to the truck, leaning towards the bed as he let his eyes linger on the girl for a few moments, and then cracked a wider still grin, "Please, I assure you, the more you cooperate, the less likelihood of trouble, yes? The people, they is, how you would say.. ignorant peasant types. They do not wholly understand the outside world and if they understand that you can fall in line, they will be appeased." Even as he spoke, the stench of vodka upon his breath carried on over across the bitter, cold air up to the pair.
Without another word, he tapped the wooden border of the truck's bed and stepped back, "So yes, you will cooperate, yes?"
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Post by theron on Jun 19, 2011 20:01:35 GMT -5
"No."The word was spoken with the calm, reserved demeanor that Theron reserved for situations delicate enough to require a concealed hand and an unreadable poker face, both of which he was applying in full right now. Before the local chieftain could protest his defiance, however, the incognito d'Metreon stood and walked slowly over to him, the truck bed creaking and shifting slightly with his weight. A rolled up sheet of paper was suddenly in his right hand, which he made no effort to conceal. "Unfortunately our business here is of an official and urgent nature." Theron's gaze met the plump tattooed man with a steady, yet not threatening, manner. If anything, he seemed to be acting deliberately naive, as though he was by no means aware that this thug and his goons were trying to intimidate him. He kept the paper mostly rolled up for the moment, though held it loosely, exposing the uppermost parts of what appeared to be an official emblem on it. The way he was holding it the man couldn't help but notice. "There's no time for questions; all you need to know is that my partner and I," He gestured to Nova with a slight tip of his head. "Are demon hunters -- demon vânători..."Now he lowered his voice and unrolled the sheet, close enough that the brigands could all see but the villagers could only catch a sideways glimpse. "And we're here under the full authority of Shibusen... and your masters."The paper was essentially a writ of transit, outlining the regions to which "Davian Briggs" and November Black would be allowed to travel, as well as their purpose. At the top it had the seal of Shibusen, Shinigami's own skull emblem embossed in black and white upon the page; this gave it the same authorization as an international passport and was commonly enough given to students when traveling abroad, especially to places where the English-writ student ID might not be recognized by the locals. Between the top and bottom of the page everything was written out, English at the top and Romanian at the bottom. It was unlikely these meat-heads could read either, though, and it wouldn't surprise Theron if they were too ignorant to recognize the Shibusen mark either. Which was why he'd made a slight... addition to the writ. At the bottom was a flat circle of scarlet wax, into which an intricate impression had been made. Faking the d'Metreon seal had been a bit tricky, but with his own crest to work from he stood confident of all the details. This "welcoming party" would be too stupid to know the difference, no matter how closely they examined it. And below it -- a far easier forgery -- was a signature writ in deep purple ink. "We need to get to the village of Cocină without delay." He added, giving the man and his decrepit minions the chance to examine the letter in detail... while also making sure to keep it out of easy reach. There was no trusting someone like this, no matter what impressions Theron thought he was under. "Is this truck going there next, or is there some other transport we could use?"
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Post by nova on Jun 22, 2011 16:14:33 GMT -5
Nova shot up a little in retaliation when some guy decided it would be a good idea to kick her furry companion. For moment she was tempted to go and kick him but then realised it wasn’t the smartest idea she’d ever had. And that it was cold enough to stop her dead, so she sunk back down into the, slightly warmer, bed of the truck. It only got worse when the village ‘chief’ decided to eye her up and grin a little more. She suddenly felt a lot more nervous than she had been before and she was nervous anyway. Something told her she would need to nail, bolt and rivet herself to Theron’s side. She had a feeling that if she didn’t something nasty would happen, probably involving the local pervert. She clutched a little more and the blanket she was relying on so that she didn’t freeze to death, and if anything it made her feel a little safer.
This place was creeping her out. She didn’t like the people, she didn’t like the atmosphere, and she didn’t like this damn cold. Although, when they’d asked for ‘co-operation’ she would has agreed just so nothing bad happened to either of them but Theron planed otherwise, like normal, telling the chief and his brutes that they had to listen to them, it sounded risky to Nova. They probably already knew who they were; Nova didn’t see how it made a difference. This was, in some ways, Theron’s land, yes, but for now they didn’t know who he was so it made no difference at all! They were just a pair of stuck up Students who thought they were better than everyone else because they came from Shibusen Academy! If she knew anything is that in most situations, that wasn’t the best thing you could think of doing. ”Ther...! Um…Nevermind…” Nova had just managed to stop herself from saying his name out loud and no doubt these yobs would know his name and would love to tear his limbs off before starting on her. So Nova was going to stay quiet. The smirking Chief gave her the creeps.
Her partner held to him a piece of paper, a letter from the Academy, confirmation of who they were and what they needed to do. Although these people obviously knew about the effects of displeased higher ranking people, it didn’t mean they’d treat them with any respect or caution. As far as they were concerned, this village was theirs, and she had no doubt in her mind that they would at least bite back. Something told her their bite was as bad as their bark but she for one didn’t want to find out first hand. She, like him, wanted to get in, sort out what was going on, nom on a soul and then get the fuck out of their before either Theron got noticed or something else happened. Still, part of her missed the Missions and, although this was no holiday destination, she liked to get beyond the Walls of Death City.
Hopefully she’d make it back alive and in one piece.
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Post by terralventhe on Jul 3, 2011 6:57:04 GMT -5
"No."
"Sunteţi puţin corcitură.." The bald man hissed at the declaration, as in that very same instance his guards grasped their weapons all the more tightly, preparing for the order to 'discipline' the two foreigners. The order did not come, however, as before the man was able to get another word out, the foreign boy, this 'Davian Briggs' spoke his case, and thereafter produced a letter. His initial instinct being to reach out and take it before he noticed the clever manner in which it was held just out of reach.. he'd dealt with this sort before. The type who behaved in a manner as to portray themselves as weak rabbits, only to be a fox hiding underneath.
"Very well, let me be reading this." He venomously stated, the bile in his voice at being denied in such an abrupt way, as well as the mention of his 'masters' clearly setting off a foul response in the town's chief. Surprisingly, he did in fact read the letter, no doubt smarter than the average villager, and thus why he was the one in charge, as he narrowed his eyes at the signature and emblem at the end of the letter, "Prin iaduri.." He scowled at that and took a step back.
This was not a favorable turn of events, the man was thinking, it somewhat showing on his face.. looking at that letter as he ran his rough and caloused hand over his chin. And then he smirked. A cruel, harsh smirk of someone who had found his means of entertainment, as he threw out his hands boisterously, "Ha! Why did you not say so already, oaspeţii binecuvântat!" At that moment, confusion spread throughout the crowd, as people exchanged glances of questioning and puzzled sorts, clearly not having expected this reaction.
"Please, apologies for the armed greeting, honorable slujitor al d'Metreon.." He spoke the last bit with loud emphasis, a sly grin upon his face as he regarded the two, as his intent was laid bare. The crowd's tension grew tenfold what it already was. Where there were once panicked and suspicious glares aimed towards the two, there were now terrified and hateful ones. The murmurs returning as before, except harsh and dreadful almost. The words 'diavoli' and its ilk rushing about as the mere mention of the d'Metreon name clearly did not put the visitors on the favorable side of the locals, "..Please, again, how may I help you? You said you wanted to go to Cocină, yes? Yes. We have no vehicles. Only service truck that travels to the border, yes?"
The man walked away from them slowly, as his guards stood their ground around the truck, before the chief stopped and turned, "You may be able to procure horse, but only with my permit, yes. Otherwise, I fear you will be forced to travel on foot, venerabil slujitor." The crowd tensed again at the respectful way their chief was regarding them, offering such platitudes that there was no way that these two could be anything other than representatives of the d'Metreons, "Please, though, take your time.. I am sure the way will present itself to you, yes? Yes."
With a sneering chortle, the chief pushed his way through the crowd at that, shouting at some of the villagers, "Aţi nici o lucrare?! Opriţi vagabondaj şi coborâţi-vă fundurile, vă porcine mizerabil!" as some of them panicked and scattered, leaving only a handful left to stare at the foreigners as the crowd slowly dispersed.. the sound of a carpenter banging a hammer against wood dimly drifting through the town as daily life seemed to return to the town, howeverso much the tense air seemed to remain.
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Post by theron on Jul 4, 2011 8:31:10 GMT -5
Though he mentally chaffed at having a pejorative like slujitor -- 'servant' in English -- thrown at him Theron nevertheless kept his poker face. To say the boy was on high alert was a gross understatement; he wasn't about to let something like the crass tongue of a belligerent peasant-boss get to him, but neither did he ignore the man's reactions. He was liking this one less and less by the moment, and every time he opened his mouth Theron's opinion dropped yet further.
Nor did he miss the crowd's reaction. A cold that had nothing to do with the weather swept over him, yet he fought it down with an act of will. No sign of weakness, not in front of this lot.
"You may be able to procure horse, but only with my permit, yes. Otherwise, I fear you will be forced to travel on foot, venerabil slujitor."
That word again... and the mention of a permit. There was no doubt now; this brigand was the scum that his family had -- through proxy, of course -- put in charge of this "town" and possibly others. Yet Theron wasn't shaken. His forgery was good and Hadrien barely ever came back to the Sovereign Barony; by the time word reached the main estate and anyone able to respond contacted his elder brother for verification he and Nova would, with any luck, already have the Kishin Egg's soul and be on their way out. If all else failed they could leave by way of the waterfall tunnels, though hopefully it wouldn't come to that. For now, other matters demanded attention.
"If that is what's available... fine. One horse will be sufficient. And your permit; what exactly are you asking for it?" He called out the man's intention without bothering to maintain the earlier approach, knowing that simply demanding would only create needless conflict. As petty and trifling as it was, here and now this oaf held power enough to make this journey difficult. A horse would draw attention to them but it would also make the two students far more mobile, especially if it was at least halfways healthy and trained. Its value could not be understated.
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Post by nova on Jul 5, 2011 15:23:09 GMT -5
Something that pervert chef said seemed to irk her Partner, although Nova didn’t understand the random flourishes of Romanian in his sentences. Whatever he did say had brushed Theron up the wrong way, it travelled in his wavelength. Still, this was also Therons home, his family ruled this dump so being spoken down upon by your own less-than-loyal subjects was enough to dent his pride. Besides, people like this guy probably loved it when he could talk down to people while other lived in fear of their rulers. Some part of Nova wondered if Theron was like that as well, somewhere deep down in that locked up soul of his. But that day in the forest made her doubt that also. He’d practically broken down in front of her. But she wasn’t sure if that was enough to perswayed her he wasn’t like the rest of his family. By the looks of things they just didn’t seem to care at all. She shivered and sunk down into the blanket some more.
Though the knowledge that this feeble warmth might be lost at the mention of having to go horseback wasn’t at all a pleasant surprise. She held on tighter to the fabric between her cold, icy blue hands. Not to mention she didn’t know how to ride a horse, and she’d never ridden one either. The damn things were taller than she was. Then again horses are taller than a lot of people. But it didn’t surprise her that Theron knew. If he didn’t he probably wouldn’t have asked if they could use one. Although Nova feared it would probably be starving and useless in a place like this. But on the other hand, it wasn’t hard to imagine the men in front of her galloping around on huge black stallions. And to say the local yob scared her enough as it were she added some nightmare steeds. Though she wasn’t uncommon with nightmares.
”And your permit; what exactly are you asking for it?"
Nova didn’t even want to know what he wanted in return and his wandering eyes didn’t help. This place truly scared the life out of her, or those men did. She could only hope none of them did anything stupid, not only could it force Theron to drop that ridiculous alias, but it could only be thought that it would end up cause much, much more harm them it could ever good. If these people even knew how to do good deeds, and not threaten people with half honest intentions. Yet again, Nova had nothing to say, she never did, and just took refuge behind that blanket like some sort of comfort. Soon it would be gone, and on the brighter side of thing, soon, hopefully, they’d be away from this Village. And she could call her own partner by his real name.
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Post by terralventhe on Aug 1, 2011 10:30:02 GMT -5
"And your permit; what exactly are you asking for it?"
As the response came, the man stopped in his tracks, already a good feet away from the truck and its passengers. He hid a snake-like smirk whilst his back was turned, before turning it into a venomous smile instead and moved to face the two would-be travellers himself. His expression oozed with confidence in his situation. They needed his permit, and they knew it as well as he did. Adjusting his belt a few times, he cast another glance at the shivering girl hanging back behind the boy, "You have good taste in sense, slujitor." He remarked and chuckled briefly before he waved a dismissive hand, "My terms are nothing distasteful, be assured, yes? However, local business should not be spoken in public, amidst the rabble."
The pot-bellied man looked about at the few remaining locals who were reluctantly departing, clearing the area with scornful expressions aimed both at their chief and the visitors alike. It seemed clear that ever since the association with the barony had been established, the locals saw their chief and the two youths as being in league with one another. Pausing at length, the chief offered a mocking bow of the head, "We shall speak later, ah? You have permission to seek me out at my humble abode in the town's western sector - there is no rush, though." He stated, a sly grin upon his features as he postured himself as a generous host, "Please, enjoy my town. The local tavern is open should you be seeking a warm place and food, ah? Yes, yes. When you have experienced the town a little more, I think, that is when it is best we discuss business. In private."
With those words, the chief turned away again, and walked over to the western part of town, no doubt towards whatever 'humble' abode he had, evidently done with the conversation for now, as his guards began to follow suit as well. A strange silence, broken up only briefly with the sound of people going about their daily business, crept up on the place, as mere moments earlier the spot had been filled with a crowd and yet was now utterly vacant. Even the driver and his dog had cleared off somewhere. It might even be peaceful, if not for the everlasting sense of dread in the air and the..
..clod of dirt sailing through the air?
The clumped together ball of mud and dirt crashed against the truck's side, just a few inches from the Meister and Weapon duo.. as a child, perhaps no older than eight or so, dressed in tattered excuses for peasant rags and covered in dirt stood at a 'safe' distance and glared at them, holding a second clod in his hand, "Diavoli! Pleacă! Rulaţi înapoi la umbra!" The child threw the second clod, before a withered and exhausted woman rushed over and slapped the child, looking at the duo with desperate eyes and dropped to her knees, "Iartă-copilul meu nerăbdător! Te rog, nu-l naibii!" As she grabbed the child and began dragging him away, half-running as if attempting to escape from something..
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Post by theron on Aug 6, 2011 18:17:14 GMT -5
'Filthy backwoods pond scum.' Theron thought bitterly to himself as the chief and his cronies sauntered off, leaving the two to their own devices. It didn't take much to see what this cad was playing at; he'd fed the seeds of hostility to these people with his "humble gestures", ensuring "enjoying the town" would turn into nothing but trouble. Wherever he and Nova went they'd be met with cold deference at best and, more than likely, violence at worst. The petty chieftan probably thought the two outsiders would come begging for a means to do their errand and go, anything to simply leave, no matter what the cost.
He wouldn't be given such satisfaction, Theron vowed. Still, as he turned and glanced at his partner, the mention of a tavern stood out in his mind. They could find at least some warmth there, shelter from the chill and the damp... shelter, it seemed, that Nova desperately needed. Even under that blanket it was obvious the cold was taking its toll; her skin was taking on a bluish tone and she looked quite about ready to freeze to death. There was really no other choice.
"Let's head for that tavern, get some food and --"
SPLAT!
Whirling at the impact of the mudball -- and cursing the weather for effecting his reaction time so much -- Theron's gaze fell at once upon the culprit. The child was everything one would expect of a backwater urchin, all skin, bones, rags and filth. A momentary flash of anger subsided into something like resignation, taking in the look of the offender. The child was barely old enough to hold a sword; in ancient times the Lord Barons of the age would have made such a one a soldier or scout in their service, easily expended and easily replaced, thrown at the enemy en mass with little or no hope of survival. Yet such a one... such a one as this...
... with those eyes that burned with hatred, lit with a simple determination to strike back against fate...
... why did they look so much like his own?
When the second shot came, Theron didn't flinch. The volley of sodden dirt struck just below the shoulder, a solid hit that would unquestionably stain everything it touched. Yet he just kept staring blankly at the child from under his hat, an emotion he couldn't quite place nagging at him just below the surface. It was almost pity... but different somehow.
"Iartă-copilul meu nerăbdător! Te rog, nu-l naibii!"
And then mother and child were gone, leaving a disguised prince standing there in their wake, numb from the cold and unsure what to think. With some effort he shook off the blur of thoughts running through his head, hastily wiped off the mud clot, and again turned to face Nova.
"... This could get ugly, I know. But I promise I'll protect us both." And then, voice dropping somewhat, added. "This is something I'd have had to face eventually, anyway."
"Let's get to the tavern. They should accept Romanian money in there, I hope."
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Post by nova on Aug 9, 2011 17:53:49 GMT -5
The Demon Weapon wasn't sure if she believed the ugly old pig when he said the terms of his permit were nothing distasteful. She was glad to see the back of him even though they'd soon be sat with him again. At least it would be slightly warmer. Or so she hoped. Nova wasn't... accustomed to the cold, her natural tan said that. Too long in the Mojave sun. It didn't send her mad because everyone in Death City was already mad. In their own little ways, sure. Mad enough to do things like this at the least. If stranger things had happened she certainly didn't know. It was a mystery to her, how any of those buildings could possibly be warmer then outside. They were probably full of drafts, and just as cold. Nevertheless, it was worth a try. If she could get up of course, her joints felt frozen into place.
When her partner turn to face her, she just looked back. She didn't have a clue, then again she rarely did. Her poor heart and head tried as best they could to be useful, but not often coming up trumps, and the bitter cold was slowing her down. Oh how she hated this so much. She took the damn mission by force, refusing to stay home. She refused to let Theron wander around here without her, it would make her a bad weapon and partner, as well as a terrible friend. The thoughts of somewhere warmer and food was indeed a tempting one, and she couldn't say no even if it might turn out shitty and decrepit, having to spend more time within 10 yards of that 'Chef'. She was about to agree with him before she turned her head sharply to the sound of the mud hitting the truck. Like before she just stayed silent. And stared. There wasn't enough of that kid to be able to call it a human, and it shocked her.
Another shot struck her partner and she seem to completely change in attitude, for the first time for hours she darted from the blanket ignoring the cold. One of her hands gripped the side of the truck's freezing metal, her hands blue to the bone as she leant off of the side, the springs in the truck creaking. She was as temperamental as she was cold. A warning in some way of her own, partially out of their partnership, and partially because she knew who he was. It wasn't too long after the mother dragged the child away Nova suddenly felt sorry for the kid, sinking back down into the recluse of the bed, shivering again as her partner seemed to shake off what had happened and faced her again.
"... This could get ugly, I know. But I promise I'll protect us both. This is something I'd have had to face eventually, anyway... Let's get to the tavern. They should accept Romanian money in there, I hope." Nova tried to smirk, but it was too cold and this place depressed her to no ends, there wasn't a reason to smile. "Normally I would say I don't need protecting, but it is freezing out here...I'm not built for the cold" Her sarcastic humour failed as miserably as this village. Noticing her own idiocy, she sighed, and slowly got up off the floor, quickly petting the ragged dog that had other been left unnoticed since that lumbering man hit it, the poor thing. Whether she was aloud to or not, she brought the blanket with her, wrapping it around her shoulders.
Nova jumped off the track, her legs almost giving way under her, but she managed to stay up. She looked back over to Theron "After you." She said to him rather plainly. She wasn't stepping a toe inside anywhere before he did. River Fall's Lizzie may have been a bitch and the rain may have been relentless, but this was on a whole other level. But she'd demanded to be taken along to, so she couldn't really say a lot, as she trudged on after Theron towards the Tavern.
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