Troubling Blade

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ripshaw
Posts: 32
Joined: Sat Apr 26, 2014 2:09 pm

Troubling Blade

Post by ripshaw »

It had taken him some time to get over the strange effects he suffered while touching the Blade. After just one touch, it seemed as though he couldnt get the thing off his mind. More than a pull, it was almost like a longing to feel it in his hands again. Ripshaw knew magic well, and he knew it was not something to approach lightly. He had straight refused to go near the bank until he felt fully in control. Any conversation he had with Grint about it always ended heated. Each time the monk would suggest him trying to hold it and each time it angered the Ranger, as if he was being possessive. Bewildered by the entire situation, Rip had decided it would need looking into.

As the cool breeze blew in off the water of Devardec harbor, the ranger found himself anxiously sitting on the fountain. Noone was around this evening, which itself was a strange occurance. An ominous silence had settled over his life recently. Like the sun wasnt exactly shining and the nights were just that much more gloomy. Drab opposed to the usual color, so to speak. When you get to be his age, you learn yourself well. He knew without a doubt that his contact with the strange blade had somehow vexed him. Ripshaw was a man of fate, and anything outside the normal flow of lifes tide he considered a threat. He needed answers, and he needed them soon. So many questions rattled around inside his skull and his curious nature didnt make things any easier. What if he continued prolonged contact with the weapon? What if others now held the blade and were equally effected? What were the voices? "Uuugh!" he sighs angrily and runs his fingers back through his hair. Frustration and impatience.. mixed with a small amount of fear and the ranger found himself pacing again.

A creaking rattle brings Rip from his erratic brooding. A sigh of relief and an unclenching of fists and jaw, which he hadnt even realized he had done; and he tries to relax and appear normal. Smiling wide as his driver approaches Rip steps up to the wagon as it comes to a halt near the bank. "Davis, ya old wretch! How are your old bones these days?" he asks playfully. "Old bones me arse, ranger. Im prime these days!" the wagoneer says seriously. As Rip grabs the mans wrist in the warrior greeting, the old weathered face cracks into a smile. "Business is good these days thanks to you and the Brother. I dear say the misses is tickled by all the shoppin thems ship contracts landed us! he says warmly. "We thank ya dayly Rip, sir." he finishes with a pump of the wrist. Waving away the praise, the ranger squeezes in return. "We are friends davis, a long time now. You and your family are alright by me. Grint insists on taking care of friends." he replies with a smile. "The Brother eh? He insists?" Davis asks disbelieving. Getting uncomfortable with the accolades, the ranger clears his throat and brings up the business at hand.

"Davis, the item your transporting is magic in nature. Its in a box and I had it wrapped in leather and tied. You are not to touch it at any cost." he begins seriously. "I trust you best with these sorts of things, but I cant stress to you enough. No contact!" Rip gets out almost angrily. Confused by the sudden change in emotion, the wagoneer nods instead of answering. "Straight away to the designated drop off. I arranged to have someone meet you there who is familiar with these types of things. I also hired no guards for this, because I wanted no attention drawn in your direction." the ranger drones on, all business. "Do you understand me?" he regrets his tone immediately, and can see that it has effect on his friend. Sighing away some anger that he is feeling, he apologizes. "Davis, I am sorry. This.. Item, has me all jumpy. Please be careful." Nodding again instead of answering, the driver dons a serious look. "Ill do what is necessary Rip. Get yerself some rest, eh?" Smiling weakly, the ranger walks over to the box he had leaning against the fountain.

Dropping the cargo in the bed, he covers it with a blanket. Holding his hands over the wool for a second longer, he bangs his fist against the wood rail and the wagon creeks forward and up the lane. Walking slowly over to the lip of the fountain, he retakes his seat and his thoughts. Suddenly, there is an itch between his shoulders. Going very still, the Ranger opens his senses as far as they will go. Familiar scents of the city combine into something salty, but a hint of something else. Someone was watching him. Everything in his being screams that he is not quite alone. Taking another moment to try and identify the scent, its time to move. With a breath and a whisper, the Ranger vanishes into thin air.
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Nefiris
Posts: 96
Joined: Sat Apr 26, 2014 2:10 pm
Guild: Thieves
Temple: Self-Worship

Relieving Hand

Post by Nefiris »

Skulking the desert city’s shadows, as those in her trade often do, Nefiris was drawn to the sound of silence that had befallen the central plaza. There was only one other creature in the area, a male, emanating an anxiety-ridden aura atop the ledge of the large fountain. The being let out a sigh. Intrigued why, she crept in for closer observation.

Ripshaw, whom she had moved close enough toward to identify, caused her to stir a bit as he suddenly stood from the fountain to pace back and forth. Content with how unaware the Ranger appeared to be of her presence, Nefiris remained within earshot of the two not-so-lone beings in the square. What felt like an eternity, having watched the to-and-fro, was brought to a close by a break in the silence; the sound of something mobile and rickety.

An older gentleman approached, steering his wagon at the only person standing in plain sight. Ripshaw was seeming a bit worse for wear in the anxiety department, but as he took notice of the wagon heading his way, he visibly relaxed. The two began to speak to one another, the first word to come out was the name of the driver, Davis. The sounds of "item" and "transporting" didn't wake her up, but the words "magic in nature" sure slapped her in the face. If that word slap hadn't been enough, "not to touch" most definitely squeezed her so.

Focus, sharper than ever before, at least in these last few moments, was honed on the box that leaned against the fountain. She dared not part eyes with it; however, her sight was challenged and defeated as Ripshaw stepped in the path in which it was fixated upon. The unseen glare she shot Ripshaw as he carried the box away went undetected, naturally.

The box had since been placed in the wagon bed beneath some sort of sheet and whisked away to a place she knew it would never reach. Luckily, for her, since she had stayed to creep on Ripshaw for a little while longer, Davis did not seem to be in a rush. When Ripshaw vanished, seeming to have picked up on the fact that he was definitely not alone in the eerily quiet plaza, Nefiris, keeping to the shadows just in case, made her way to the stables.

_____

Forested landscape blurred beneath as Khruenassil glided through the sky. Nefiris leaned into her feathered friend as they neared their mark, preparing for the descent. Folding his wings against his body, Khrue took a steep dive downward. Nefiris readied for dismount as she felt the angle begin to lessen. Slowing near the tree line, she began to slide from her saddle. Pulling upward, Khrue signaled that was as close to the ground as she was going to get. Leaping from the lammergeier, she aimed herself at the mid-section of a large, fairly branch-less tree. Setting upon her target, she loosened herself to spring off the tree with a downward slope. Nefiris rolled into her shoulder and somersaulted onto her feet, the momentum causing her to skid on the dirt road in a crouched position.

Nefiris was only a few miles up the Great Northern Road from the wagoner when she landed, and for her, it was going to be too long of a wait. She crept through the trees on the Nirimloth side, closing the gap. Impatience nagged at her, urging her to move quicker, though she thought it odd that the two had not yet met; she'd traveled a mile on foot already. If the mark had changed course, surely Khrue would have notified her from overhead. With that in mind, she went on.

As she had suspected, something had changed. Hovering circularly in the distance, with the occasional plodding flap of the wings, the large vulture marked the general location of the man and his cargo.

_____

On the GNR, Dirimloth side, Davis casually pulled his wagon over. He thought it wouldn't have happened so soon, the need to purge his bowels, but that's the way things go sometimes. One day, you've got things locked down like an inescapable cell holding the gnarliest convict this side of Norland inside for eternity. The next, you feel like a cork about to pop out of a freshly fermented cask of mead that hasn't had the air let out that day and has just violently crashed to the ground from the back of a wagon due to a gruesome, mangling horse collision. That's the commonality of the trade's momentum, much like an after meal walk. Before he even realized, he'd already wandered off the road and dug a hole next to a fallen tree that appeared prime for a nice lengthy sit-down. He stood tall, hands on his hips, admiring his handiwork before he got to work.


Ahead of his relief, Davis thought it a fine idea to gather some strong leaves for the finish. After setting them aside his own marked location, one for sitting, he pulled the end of one leather drawstring that secured his trousers' position, firmly around the waist. In one motion, he slid the trousers down to just above the very knees he was bending at to make logfall. A sharp whistle echoed through the forest at the very moment of full purchase, perhaps aiding Davis in immediately recognized his error. Dry rot.

_____

From beneath a dark hood, shrouded by the wood line of Nirimloth, the Thief stared at the wagon that had seemingly just been abandoned on the side of the road. Had the driver been absconded with by road rabble or the forest fellows? Mulling over the possibilities as she stared unblinkingly at the wheeled vessel, her eyes slowly began to burn. Convinced that the wagon was, in fact, left unattended, she shut the dryness away. With the dragging of flesh on pushed aside and neglected limbs of wood, Nefiris parted ways with her cover.

What began as a stealthy approach quickly transitioned into a half-assed attempt at being cautious. Within steps later, her stance completed its evolution into straight not giving a damn. She strode up to the wagon just as casually as it had been pulled to the side of the road. Without breaking stride, she reached in the back of the wagon, wool brushed her hand as she bypassed the blanket, and latched onto the long rectangular leather-wrapped box, sloppily dragging it out and away. Continuing back up the road whence she came, she whistled sharply in signal to her companion.
ripshaw
Posts: 32
Joined: Sat Apr 26, 2014 2:09 pm

Re: Troubling Blade

Post by ripshaw »

An air of negativity overcomes Ripshaw as soon as he crosses the road. Stepping from the Great North Road into Riverrun, Grint in tow; they turn north passed the forge and angle toward the warehouse. When the Old squat building comes into view, Rip already knows that something is wrong. Davis' wagon sits vacant at the double doors, his horse stamping impatient at the cobbles. Sensing the mood, the monk takes the lead and hauls open one of the large bay doors. Davis stands twisting his hat in his hands, eyes to the floor. Pure worry oozes from the man and a sadder sight would be hard to come by. Stepping forward, Grint breaks the silence. "Davis, lad. Ya ok man?' Without raising his eyes the old driver Whispers "Its gone, monk. I left dev, it twas there. I come here, and its gone." Risking a look up at the two men standing there, he immediately lowers his eyes again.

"Alright Davis..." the monk starts. Suddenly Ripshaw is pushing passed him, hand on his sword. Blinding red anger consumes the ranger upon hearing the words. An image of him taking the drivers head with his sword flashing over and over. Somehow, resistance. As he turns his head to see what has his arm in a vice like grip, Rip comes eye to eye with Grint. An angry look on his face, accompanied by strain. Realizing that the monk has him by the arms, he growls. "Riii..(anger) Riiipshaw (Subsiding rage) "Ripshaw!? what are you doing!?" Grints voice comes through the red rage and suddenly he is in control again. Taking stock of the situation, he becomes ashamed. Noticing his hand, he pulls it away immediately. "Ugh, Im.." before he can finish his apology, Grint steps in. "Ya best go upstairs and get some coffee Davis. Ill be up shortly to ask ya a few questions." the monk says, eyeing Ripshaw the entire time.

As the footsteps fade up the stairs, Grint lets his anger loose. "This close Ranger. This close ya came to killing Davis! Yer friend! What has gotten into yah!?" Taking a moment to let it sink into Rip's mind, he starts again. "A long time Ive known ya Lad and never once have I seen ya not in control. So far today, ya let trolls almost gut ya and yah almost took yer own friends head!" Relaxing abit, he continues in a softer voice. "Its me lad. No secrets. Yer own words, that...Out with it." Leaning against the rafter post, he crosses his arms. Patiently he awaits the response.

Through the shame of this crazy day, the ranger tries to settle his mind. Already spinning down a dark road, he tries to make sense of his thoughts. A scent enters his senses.. The one which he noticed in Devardec center. The thief? hmm. Realizing the monk is still waiting, he clears his throat and lets it spill. "Its the blade Grint. Same one I took off that Vamp Corpse in Gallowhaven. I took it for my collection." He continues. "Over a week ago, I went to the bank to play with my toys. I took up the blade, and something happened. It vexed me." Looking up at his friend, he sighs. "Took me days to get a handle on it. A woman laughing.. Blinding rage unwarranted." Shaking his head with the thought of how stupid he sounded. "I was having it brought here for safe testing. I should have sent a guard with Davis. Its disrupting my calm and pulling me to hold it." Letting the words fade into the air he runs his hands back thru his hair. "Its getting stronger. I fear if I were to lose control."

WIthout taking so much as a second to process what he had just heard, the rascal of a monk says what any best friend should say in his position. "Soo, what do we do?" Reaching over and squeezing Grint's shoulder, he smiles. "Let Davis know I am not angry with him. Have him go home and we will question him after he had a chance to calm down." Taking his hand away, the ranger looks thoughtful. "I need to think." He says simply. Allowing himself a small chuckle, the Monk moves to go upstairs. Over his shoulder he asks. "which bar shall I find you at?" Releasing the tension in his shoulders, Ripshaw moves toward the door. "Tranos, monk. You know me too well." At that, he is gone into the night.

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