Difference between revisions of "Unti Family/Nerta/A1S4"

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In response he just spreads his hands, and gives me a lopsided stare of incredulity while I rub my temple and wonder when was the last time I’d laughed...
 
In response he just spreads his hands, and gives me a lopsided stare of incredulity while I rub my temple and wonder when was the last time I’d laughed...
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|Title= [[Melhed/Foederati|Foederati]]
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}}</center>
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<center>{{Message2
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|Width=80%
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|Type=Roleplay
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|Sender=Jacinda the Driven
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|Recipients=Everyone by the [[Agyr/Plebeians/Arena|Odeon Cruor]]
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|Content=Wren blink-blinked at the woman, who seemed nervous despite being equipped and armored to handle anything. Curiosity drew her to question in that peculiar soprano, “What told you come? Always travel has a reason.” She took two small bouncing steps away from the group and cocked her head to one side. “You come from far away, yes?”
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Jacinda blinked.  Had she just…
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Chirped?
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“Aye, quite a ways, the south-western coast.  I just felt I had to.  Normally I just chase the next full bounty pot, but this…”
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Jacinda shook her head.
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“I don’t know what this was.  I’m from the north, though.  On the Bay of Calm, of all the blasted ironic names.”
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As Wren chirps Nerta lets out a long shuddering breath at the stranger’s question. Everything about her, the tone, the posture, the haunted look, it was all too familiar. Nerta didn’t know this woman, armed and armoured to the nines, but it didn’t matter. She was a plaything of the Gods.
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Just like her.
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Gritting her teeth Nerta can just feel everything swirl around her, a storm of lost emotions that threatened to spill out. But she, she wasn’t going to, Abyss, cry.
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“I don’t know why, but I do know who. The Gods sent you…”
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Jacinda froze.
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“You...You know…”
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She leaned against a nearby tying post, before wincing and withdrawing as she ended up with a splinter in her hand.
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“Which gods?”
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Nerta’s chest felt hollow, her heart thunder. This woman, she didn’t even know… How cruel are the Gods to ruin lives even in ignorance…
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Taking a few calming breaths Nerta swallows, “The only ones that matter. They are the Old Gods of Beluaterra. The masters of the land and everything upon it.” Pausing Nerta sighs and nods, “Not everyone can hear them all the time, and they rarely bother to speak with humans but…” Nerta adopts a rictus of a grin, “I guess you’re just lucky.”
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Jacinda laughed, hollowly.
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“Lucky.  That is one thing that has been missing in my life.  My village was turned into a necromancer’s playground, everyone I’d ever known killed, and no matter how much I learn, how much I fight, I still can’t deal with the champions that guard them.  And you say this is…”
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She breathed, deeply, tugging in agitation on her black braid, before focusing again.
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“Can they help me kill necromancers?  Because if so, then where do I sign up?”
 +
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“Help you?” Nerta suddenly barks with a laugh, a sound none of her companions had heard in all their travels. It was bitter and full of vitriol, “The Gods do not help you. Why, most of them want us dead and gone for we are seen as weak!”
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Gesturing to the empty air at the chill specter that none could see, Nerta pressed, “The Old Man tried for years to earn the love of the Gods and what has it given him? He is but a haunting specter shackled to me and his people languish alone!”
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Furry continues to bubble and storm, Nerta’s eyes shimmering as though lightning arched as she continues to straighten and hiss, “A weak man learned the secrets of the Abyss and used them for twisted ends, and the Gods just shook their head in disgust because you couldn’t save everyone. For the Gods will only help those who can help themselves!”
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|Title= Adventurer
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}}</center>
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<center>{{Message2
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|Width=80%
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|Type=Report
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|Sender=Nerta the Weaver
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|Recipients=Everyone in the Past
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|Content='''Flashback'''
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And so I left.
 +
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Slipping into the cold dawn while the drunk still dozed, the edges of his cloak snap in the fierce wind while the start of a new spear rests across my shoulder. He had been generous enough but I couldn’t even guess what he’d do after sobering up.
 +
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The sun continues to climb as I crunch out of the woods to find the edge of a field sweeping up to a walled village. Perched atop a hill this place was no doubt ringed by ordered farms allowing the plebeians to flee back to the safety of the palisade should the creatures of the wild attack.
 +
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Exhaling slowly, my breath steams as I shiver in the scant fragments of gear. No doubt there will be work a plenty, but can I survive?
 
|Title= [[Melhed/Foederati|Foederati]]
 
|Title= [[Melhed/Foederati|Foederati]]
 
}}</center>
 
}}</center>

Revision as of 20:48, 27 June 2020

Report from Nerta the Weaver
Message sent to Everyone in the Past
Flashback

Branches claw and drag at rough wool, tearing fabric and leaving gashes. A dark cackle seems to stalk from the shadows driving me forward, away from the old woman and her ink. My head no longer spun, my stomach settled but something much worse than was following me. Rounding on the snarling shape amidst a break in the trees I brace, hands fumbling for a club, a rock, anything.

But it is not enough.

Weight slams me against a trunk, my stomach lurching as I lash at the beast. One fist connects with soft tissue, spongy, wet, even as another scrapes along chitin plates. Panic dances and my vision swims as some hideous searing gel oozes along my arm.

My hiss accompanies a shoulder roll that sees the beast slammed through the thin scrub even as the familiar pain of a Graft blossoms across my jaw. The beast becomes aware that something is wrong, but even as it tries to pull away I strike, biting into the unprotected eye stalk.

A burbling wail pierces the air as ichor drips from my grotesque expression. Staggering away from the writhing thing I inhale sharply and shudder as the Graft fades.

I needed a real weapon, shelter.. time. The old woman had stolen everything.

Pushing through the small corps of trees I tumble in the gloom to trip on a root and catch myself before I sprawl into a… a camp?

The stranger wipes his mouth on the back of his sleeve as his wineskin slips to the stump seat. The curling stench of stale drink rolls toward me along with the swaying silhouette, even as my breath steams with still cooling ichor.

My hand twitches, fingers clenching as the figure stops only a short distance away leaving me nowhere to hide. So we stand in cold silence until he slurs, “Whersh your clothesh?”
Nerta the Weaver (Foederati)


Roleplay from Jacinda the Driven
Message sent to Everyone by the Odeon Cruor
For her part Nerta seemed lost in thought during the exchange, only occasionally glancing up as Wren smoothed the ruffled feathers. Eventually the matter is settled leaving Nerta to sigh and cast her gaze around for Vedens. It came as no surprise that he was nowhere to be found.

“Yes, let’s… get out of here,” nodding to Kevan the woman moved back toward the door and out onto the streets. It was so much warmer now than when she’d first arrived…

Leading the motley crew down the winding streets the great towering edifice of the Odeon Cruor begins to loom above them. Built of Qual stone during the height of the Republic and shaped by the finest artisans, even now the towering statues peer down at the thronging crowds of the merchant square.

The Old Man had been amused to see the arena still standing back when they’d first made it to the city. Apparently the Plebeian District had been cleared away to construct the massive structure all to give the newly minted adventurers a place to meet. Of course that meant homes and shops which had stood for generations had been demolished, all so the Patricians could enjoy a spot of leisure and blood sport. Even today, with the might of the Republic long since faded, the arena floor was rarely dry.

As the group pushed through the crowd Jacinda was pacing back and forth before the great arena pausing only to buy a flatbread wrap from a street vendor. She knew this was where she was supposed to be, or close to it, but she still didn't know why, and her aching feet told her this whole thing was a fool's errand.

"Blasted misbegotten feelings are no reason to run across a continent..."

The woman muttered between bites of the warm food looking fierce in her heavy armour. So like a guard captain, with blades, mail, rope and more hanging from her heavy pack or travel cloak.

"But I can feel ​​​​​​​this is the right place...!"

Then she turned at one edge of the street, spun around, and saw them. An odd assortment, surely at least some of them on the same path as she, and that feeling that guided her here tightened. Opening her mouth she raised an arm to hail them.

Wren’s sharp gaze spied the quick movement, leaving her to straighten abruptly and point out the heavily armed woman to the hunched figure in front of the small group.

As they all began to pivot the new voice called, "I...Are you..."

Jacinda chews on her lip. How did you tell someone that you had a feeling you needed to meet them?

"I...I need to be...Here, I think, but I don't know why, and can you...Do any of you...?"

The new woman’s hand tightened around her sword hilt, "Why am I here?​​​​​​​"
Jacinda the Driven (Adventurer)


Report from Nerta the Weaver
Message sent to Everyone in the Past
Flashback

After that he gave me a cloak.

It smells.

But it’s better than half torn sackcloth.

He also… didn’t panic, stare, or try to ward me away. He just swayed over to his bag, pulled out the cloak and tossed it before nearly collapsing on his stump. His indifferent kindness was almost endearing after so many weeks away from home.

The chilly specter shares a few choice words, but I ignore the Old Man and move over to join the drunk even as I use the edge of the cloak to clean my chin.

We sit in silence for a time, save the crackling of the fire, but eventually I mutter, “Thanks. I'm Nerta.”

“Vhedensh,” he nods and smiles over the next pull at the wine before pointing toward me and twisting up his face, “F-F-F-Foederati, right?”

For some reason the old word doesn’t make me wince.

“Ya,” I glance away in the dark, “From the mountains.”

“Knew it! Ha. Thsss cool. ‘m from Agyr,” one pause later he adds, “You should gets clothesh ‘nd stuff. Dangerous out here.”

My lips pursed I snort, “Had stuff, was robbed.”

“Wash he cute at leasht?” taking a pull at the wine he seems to catch my puzzled look, “No? ssss not fair. It’sh only fun when they shteal your clothesh and they’re cute.”

“It was a robbery, not some…” I snort and wave a hand, “game.” Hmm though the crone certainly had something in mind, the ink marks...

“Pssssssh you need better friendsh.”

“I don’t have friends,” the words bite. He didn’t deserve that… but he hardly seems to notice.

“Okay fine! You twisted my arm. Heh, arms. I’ll be your friend,’ he points, “But the wine ish mine. Friendsh don’t shteal friendsh wine.”

My brows arched, I can’t help a short bark of a laugh, “You… you’re a drunken fool.”

In response he just spreads his hands, and gives me a lopsided stare of incredulity while I rub my temple and wonder when was the last time I’d laughed...
Nerta the Weaver (Foederati)


Roleplay from Jacinda the Driven
Message sent to Everyone by the Odeon Cruor
Wren blink-blinked at the woman, who seemed nervous despite being equipped and armored to handle anything. Curiosity drew her to question in that peculiar soprano, “What told you come? Always travel has a reason.” She took two small bouncing steps away from the group and cocked her head to one side. “You come from far away, yes?”

Jacinda blinked. Had she just…

Chirped?

“Aye, quite a ways, the south-western coast. I just felt I had to. Normally I just chase the next full bounty pot, but this…”

Jacinda shook her head.

“I don’t know what this was. I’m from the north, though. On the Bay of Calm, of all the blasted ironic names.”

As Wren chirps Nerta lets out a long shuddering breath at the stranger’s question. Everything about her, the tone, the posture, the haunted look, it was all too familiar. Nerta didn’t know this woman, armed and armoured to the nines, but it didn’t matter. She was a plaything of the Gods.

Just like her.

Gritting her teeth Nerta can just feel everything swirl around her, a storm of lost emotions that threatened to spill out. But she, she wasn’t going to, Abyss, cry.

“I don’t know why, but I do know who. The Gods sent you…”

Jacinda froze.

“You...You know…”

She leaned against a nearby tying post, before wincing and withdrawing as she ended up with a splinter in her hand.

“Which gods?”

Nerta’s chest felt hollow, her heart thunder. This woman, she didn’t even know… How cruel are the Gods to ruin lives even in ignorance…

Taking a few calming breaths Nerta swallows, “The only ones that matter. They are the Old Gods of Beluaterra. The masters of the land and everything upon it.” Pausing Nerta sighs and nods, “Not everyone can hear them all the time, and they rarely bother to speak with humans but…” Nerta adopts a rictus of a grin, “I guess you’re just lucky.”

Jacinda laughed, hollowly.

“Lucky. That is one thing that has been missing in my life. My village was turned into a necromancer’s playground, everyone I’d ever known killed, and no matter how much I learn, how much I fight, I still can’t deal with the champions that guard them. And you say this is…”

She breathed, deeply, tugging in agitation on her black braid, before focusing again.

“Can they help me kill necromancers? Because if so, then where do I sign up?”

“Help you?” Nerta suddenly barks with a laugh, a sound none of her companions had heard in all their travels. It was bitter and full of vitriol, “The Gods do not help you. Why, most of them want us dead and gone for we are seen as weak!”

Gesturing to the empty air at the chill specter that none could see, Nerta pressed, “The Old Man tried for years to earn the love of the Gods and what has it given him? He is but a haunting specter shackled to me and his people languish alone!”

Furry continues to bubble and storm, Nerta’s eyes shimmering as though lightning arched as she continues to straighten and hiss, “A weak man learned the secrets of the Abyss and used them for twisted ends, and the Gods just shook their head in disgust because you couldn’t save everyone. For the Gods will only help those who can help themselves!”
Jacinda the Driven (Adventurer)


Report from Nerta the Weaver
Message sent to Everyone in the Past
Flashback

And so I left.

Slipping into the cold dawn while the drunk still dozed, the edges of his cloak snap in the fierce wind while the start of a new spear rests across my shoulder. He had been generous enough but I couldn’t even guess what he’d do after sobering up.

The sun continues to climb as I crunch out of the woods to find the edge of a field sweeping up to a walled village. Perched atop a hill this place was no doubt ringed by ordered farms allowing the plebeians to flee back to the safety of the palisade should the creatures of the wild attack.

Exhaling slowly, my breath steams as I shiver in the scant fragments of gear. No doubt there will be work a plenty, but can I survive?
Nerta the Weaver (Foederati)