Rea Family/Dancer/Waking Nightmares
Roleplay from Dancer Rea Message sent to all nobles of Thalmarkin (34 recipients) - 6 days, 16 hours, 14 minutes ago "A man is what he hides: a miserable little pile of secrets." - Les Noyers de l'Altenburg (1943), André Georges Malraux
Waking Nightmares 1
- 11/12, Tor, (rogue)
Cool rain fell onto his hot, feverish face, and dripped from his hair with every step. The road was a bog-mire of mud with the rain showing no signs of stopping. The carts had stayed home for the day, leaving Dancer to slog through the mud alone, mile after mile. Dull, throbbing pain echoed through his body with every step, both his wounds and his head coordinating a symphony of pain. Out of the corner of his eye, movement flickered through the forests edge, a darker shadow in the rainy haze. With a shout, Dancer drew his sword, infernal sigils glistening in the rain. "Show yourself! By Akkan, I will tear you limb from limb!" Silence met his challenge, the trees dark and silent. He waited a few moments longer before sheathing his sword with a mild grumble. This was the third time he thought he'd seen something move in the trees, and the third time it had proven to be nothing. He turned, and resumed his slog through the mud. Silently, he chided himself; he never should have left his retainers, wounded and sick as he was.
A few miles passed, and the rain worsened, swiftly becoming a downpour. Dancer wiped the rain from his eyes, and sighed. Every stride had become a challenge; the mud was so thick he sunk to his ankles. The sheer amount of mud caked to his boots made each step three times as heavy. The headache that had been growing for the last twenty minutes wasn't helping his progress either. With a disgruntled sigh, he made his way over to a good sized tree with sagging boughs. Dry pine needles littered the ground underneath the branches, offering not only dry, but relatively comfortable shelter. Carefully, he took off his ever-present stained pack, and sat with his back to the trunk, shivering. The rain had soaked him though, and business like, he removed his shirt, careful of both of his weeping wounds. Light green slime oozed out of both of the wounds, and the edges were bright red, and hot to the touch. Dancer grimaced, he'd seen infection before, in the various healers tents he'd been in over the years. He'd seen the results of such wounds as well. Some small part of his tired brain felt fear, but he was so exhausted and cold, he simply pushed the feeling away. Death would come to him, one day. Perhaps this infection would be what sent him to his final judgement, or perhaps a sword to the gullet, or an axe to the neck. He had better things to do then wallow in self pity. He flipped his pack open, rain sliding off the oiled leather. Gingerly, he rooted around, carefully avoiding the sharper objects, until soft leather met his fingers. A small bag of medical supplies had been part of his pack for decades now, and had come in handy on many a day like this one. Slowly, he worked to clean, and bandage his wounds, stopping every so often to let the pain subside. Dry bandages warmed him slightly, and slowly he drifted off to sleep, watching the rain.
Roleplay from Dancer Rea
(Personal message to Aubin Ledoux) - 4 days, 21 hours, 21 minutes ago
Rumors spread of a dark horse trotting through Kannoktet, a rider drunkenly riding bareback, covered in a wolverine fur................
Roleplay from Dancer Rea Message sent to everyone in Unger (21 recipients) - 2 days, 20 hours, 48 minutes ago Waking Nightmares 5
The sunlight reflected its last weak rays on the horse's dark coat. Jax's normally midnight coat was patched with dark spots of sweat, and the small, stained pack tied around his neck had left a massive chaffed line on each side of his shoulders. He heaved and huffed, eye's popping out of his head from the exertion. He'd found his charge nearly dead in the cold lands of the north, and the only coherent order Jax had received was to find the "Princess". Said charge hung off Jax's back, the only life in the man an irregular wheeze. A thick, untreated pelt hung over the man's shoulders, but whether the sharp smell of death came from the rotting pelt, or the man himself, wasn't apparent. A week's worth of unkempt beard marred his face. When his eyes were open, they were sunken and unfocused. Dried blood had made two massive brown painted rivers down his front, and both of his wounds continued to ooze white goo and blood. Jax's hair around his wither was matted with it. Two bright red circles surrounded the stab wounds, skin hot and pulled tight. Jax was sure Dancer would die, if he couldn't find this 'Princess' soon.
Getting into the city had been easy enough, but the simple tracking spell Dancer had given Jax was not meant for such a packed area. While he could get a general direction, trying to pin point the source was a massive headache. People stared at the horse and his nearly comatose rider, spurring Jax to an even faster gallop toward the center of the city. He was trotting though a wide ally, when suddenly, the spell switched directions, pointing Jax back the way he came. With a snort, he turned, quickly trotting back down they way he had came. A large establishment stood off to his left, with a long line waiting out front, and two very large, very muscular guards standing at the front entrance. Jax paced on the other side of the ally for a moment, trying to guess the approximate location of the 'Princess'. Of course, everything he did pointed to the gilded, guarded doors. Jax huffed. At least the doors were big enough to accommodate his current form. Hopefully the Princess wouldn't be too far inside. Without warning, Jax full on galloped into the people outside, knocking them left and right, trampling one guard and head butting the other, before barging through the doors.
The 'establishment' had a live orchestra in the corner, and many, many scantily clad women dancing on platforms around the room. A massive bar stretched down one side of the room, and a few of the….working woman… danced both behind and on top of the polish wood surface. At least, they would have been, if a horse hadn't just barged in the door. The room went silent, and everyone stared at the disheveled pair, people nearly pushing each other to get away from them, whether from the smell or the massive beast wasn't obvious. Several more of the large, angry looking men appeared in the corners of the room, and began to move in. Jax looked around frantically, trying to figure out just where the Princess could be in the throng. His eyes lit on a curved cushioned bench, two stately woman watching the commotion with mild interest. Jax tossed his head a bit, before smartly trotting over to woman. He just hoped he was right, the guards had not taken kindly to his movements.
Like water, new colors came to him, as if a waterfall had broken ground, and he stood below. Slowly, the colors took shape, Anyte flowing into being. Dancer smiled, and felt a warmth come over him, like a thick blanket on a cold winters day. "My Love, I..." Suddenly, a cold, empty blackness rushed across him, and he knew nothing.
Dancer opened his eyes, just for a moment. He gazed to Anyte, eyes almost completely unfocused, and bloodshot. "My Love, I.." The effort of speaking must have been too much. Dancer's eyes crossed, and he fell off Jax, hitting the floor with a nasty crack.
