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Pillow Talk

Discussion in 'The Hooded Crow Inn [Fiction]' started by Trae Markwood, Apr 24, 2012.

  1. "What in the hell do you think you're doing?!"

    She grinned from ear to ear. It wasn't what she thought she was doing, it was what she *knew* she was doing. Her hand on the latch, Trae gripped it pushing down. "It's called having a little fun. You remember how don't you?"

    "This isn't Skara, Trae."

    "No, This is supposed to be your home now.. Isn't it Pay?"

    "I deal with these people regularly Trae. My trade routes run through this territory, Nuetral Territory." Trae's smile spread. Neutral was a relative term. Besides it was one little dagger. One pretty little abyssal dagger.

    "What's the harm in just, -borrowing-?" Reaching her hand out, she skirted along the underside of the pillow the blade sat on. Her fingers hummed and itched as she met the first of what was probably multiple barriers of magic. Laughing she turned her index finger and closed her eyes. The words would be tricky. If you said it wrong, toned it wrong, frying in a flame of fire was always a possible. But then, Trae loved the heat.

    She knew Paytience was pacing. She always had when they were running tandem. "I don't see how you're still alive if you're always this nervous."

    "You don't know me anymore, Trae. And this isn't just any merchant. This is Dawn."

    Brilliantly, the room lit up momentarily blinding the both of them. Trae stilled her hand and waited for the light to die down before she continued. Her nose inhaled it then, the slightest hint of parchment. Completing the incantation she grabbed the hilt of the dagger just before grumbling started."

    "Pay, what's that...."

    "Run dammit!"

    *written with the express permission of Wildstar. The dagger in question is Mesanna's Assassin's Dagger and has not actually been taken*
  2. The windows were covered in branches. Thick, bulging, animated branches. "Their moving."

    "Reapers." They said the word in Unison. From the corner of her eye she caught the smile on Trae's face. "We need to find a way out."

    "Teleport from the roof."

    "I'm not a mage, Trae." Exasperation seeped into her every word. They weren't children anymore. If you started something you had to be prepared to finish it, because there was no other adult to take the fall for your actions.

    "Fine. Gate travel."

    "To where?"

    "Goddess sakes, Paytience do you *have* to shoot down every idea? You could be helpful and I don't know... maybe come up with a plan."

    "Come up with a.... This was YOUR bright idea."

    "Yeah, it was wasn't it." Uncontrollable fits of giggles took hold of the curvy brunette. "I have a good one every now and then."

    "This isn't now or then, then.. is it?" The grumbling grew louder, and the sound of glass breaking could be heard throughout the tower.

    "We could jump."

    "Do you know how high up that is."

    "Paytience you're bumming me out. Now either agree with me or go play with the reapers."

    "This is just like you, Trae. How many times did I end up bailing you out after some guy caught your hand in his..."

    "You've never had to bail me out Paytience. My Brother and I took you in. We taught you how to make it."

    Silence split the rumbling room and the air thickened with everything that was on the tip of their tongues to say. With the only words that would come fluently at that moment, Paytience let out a string of cursing and popped open the front door. War fork in hand she grabbed a branch with the tines and twisted. Her wrist arching she snapped the wood and sent it flying into the main room. Trae waited until she'd cleared enough of the side to squeeze past. No time to waste, Patience lowered the fork and dodged as a reaper branch bit low, trying to knock the weapon out of her hand.

    "Trespassers!" Draped in the blue-ish robes of a Dawn healer, grey hair and a very pointed finger could be seen just beyond the reaper line. She saw his hand come up, she heard the words and felt the rush of adrenaline as she pushed past, swiped the dagger from Trae's grip and slashed across the neck of the healer.
  3. "SPLIT UP!" She yelled with as much force as her lungs would allow. Her arms swung at her sides in exactly ninety degree angles with one hand clenched around the dagger, blood only partially dripping from it. From the corner of her eye, she saw Trae head south east, disappearing between the older Dawn structures. The ground roared and gave as branches and trunks sprung from the desolate Fel soil. The best she could hope for now was that her friend made it to a clearing and out. That was as far as her self preservation would let her think though, because right now she had her own butt to save.

    Left of her, a tornado of wind gusted as a Reaper sprang up. Fully grown it went to snap, its bark forcing her to roll out of its way rather than duck. She came up hard against the mountain of rock that Dawn stretched beside and let out a breath as her own air was knocked from her lungs.

    Clean up the scratches in order to beat the hell out of me again.. she thought. Trae hadn't planned this part, and she knew it though as surely as she knew that her friend planned nothing. She never had. That was part of the problem.
  4. Materialization was instant. Black gravel under her feet, she grinned from ear to ear. The smell of saltwater invaded her nose and the "shhhhclip" of scissors in use was audible. Behind her the Shear Pleasure tailor shop was a hub of activity. Unbuckling the laces of her leather sleeves, she rounded the corner and opened the heavy wooden door. Her brown hair curled around her shoulders as it fell free of the ties that previously bound it up.

    "Budo... I need a change of clothes." She winked at the older gentleman.

    Silver tipped sides gazed back at her from a weathered face. "I thought you were bringing our girl back home."

    Swaying her hips to the second door at the back of the room, she yanked off the sleeves and began to unbutton the tunic. "I am. She just needed a reminder where she started first."

    "Trae, what did you do?"

    Her eye lids lowered and her voice dropped to the calm octave it normally inhabited. Pushing the bedroom door closed one again she whispered, "What won't I do, to get the job done? Now... get me that skirt would you.. I'd hate to have to keep your customers attention off the merchandise."
  5. Fel houses were private and locked. It was part and parcel for this neck of the woods. Murderers and thieves ran wild and so the residents had taken every precaution to ensure their items and their souls remain intact.

    Thieves. She ran the term over her tongue letting it settle like medicine she couldn't quite swallow. City grit permeated the crevices between her teeth and once more she was back on the streets of Skara, of Britain, Of Jhelom. While the haze of memories flooded her senses dulling the ache in her bones, present flooded her will to protect her butt.

    A glance at her runebook for the fifth time assured her that she it wasn't going to be as easy as just a recall out. She had no choice, she had to try. No latch, and no knob had been unturned and all yielded the same result. She was barred out.

    It's two Towers back.

    Cold day in Fire!

    He's not even home. And you have entrance.

    And if he comes home?

    You leave.

    Son of a... Pale-skinned, arrogant, Monster.

    And your point is?

    The inhale of breath would have been audible if anyone were standing directly next to her.. but as it were the Dawn Guards had yet to catch up.

    Her march back to Tarrant's left her all the more time to consider how badly Trae would pay for this.
  6. WildStar

    WildStar UO Baja News Reporter
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    May 12, 2008
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    Lady WildStar stood on the roof of the Dawn Tower observing the scene around her. The workers had just finished clearing up the remains of the reapers from around the tower. The wood would be used to heat the houses in Dawn as nothing was wasted here. The body of the dead healer had already been committed to the bay as he had had no family to inform of his death. Two members of the Royal Guard of Dawn were stationed at the front door of the tower, while two pairs of rangers where trying to find the tracks of the thieves after they had left the building. She looked down at the empty pillow and wondered where he was. She had sent out the special messenger bird shortly after she had gotten to the tower after the alarm had gone off and she had discovered that the dagger was stolen.

    Just as she was about to go send another message, she heard the cries of a raven overhead. Ah good, he should be here shortly. Within five minutes, she heard the voices of the guards at the door and the man she had summoned. As per her earlier instructions, the guards left him in and would not allow entrance into the tower until the meeting was over.

    She turned to face the stairway and waited for him to reach the roof. The man looked very uncomfortable to be seen in public in the sunlight but then she was not in the mood to think of the comfort of others.

    “M’Lady” the man said hesitantly. He know that the situation was bad for they were not meeting in the secret rooms under the Royal Palace and she had a hard look on her face.

    “What was the delay in responding to my summons?”, she said impatiently.

    “Um….Ah….” Straight to the point and impatient….neither of those were good signs about how this meeting was going to progress for him. “I was…occupied….”

    “When I summon you, I do not care how occupied you are. You will become unoccupied and respond right away. Do you understand?”

    “Yes, M’Lady” he said quickly. He looked around and noticed that the pillow which held the sacred artifact of his order was missing. “My dagger!” he exclaimed.

    “Your dagger?” she said pointedly.


    “As you have noticed, the dagger is missing. Find it and recover it.”

    “Yes, M’Lady, with your leave.” Quickly and or else had been implied by the tone of her voice and she was not a woman to be crossed when she was in this mood.

    She nodded her head and he quickly turned and headed down the stairs glad to be out of her presence. He left the building and gladly returned to the shadows. He went to summon the other members of the Order of Black Hand as they had a very important task to complete.
  7. WildStar

    WildStar UO Baja News Reporter
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    Originally posted by War Wizard on Baja Stratics Forum​
    April 29, 2012 at 1:53 PM​
    *Dodger approached WildStar as she sat at the desk within the Palace of the Kingdom of Dawn*

    "Duchess, pardon my interuption but I have information of the theft" Dodger spat out.

    "I was out extremely late the night of the insident, and, on my way home when the Dawn Tower defense's went up and the alarms sounded. I had been drinking all night at the Sea Witch Tavern and was a bit slow in my reactions. By the time I reached the Dawn Tower the reapers were all but taken care of and all I got a glimps of were two individuals. One was an extremely shapely female with wavy brown hair I saw fleeing from the scene, however, I only saw her from behind and can not actually identify anything more than that. The other was deficult to see, clad in all black from head to toe, who weilded a kryss with exact accuracy. This one was definetly deadly with the weapon in the hand. And even though I was a bit ....uhm.... "inebriated"... I almost felt I recognized one of the voices." explained Dodger.​
  8. WildStar

    WildStar UO Baja News Reporter
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    May 12, 2008
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    She looked at him with a disappointed look in her eyes.

    "Whose voice do you think you almost recognized?" she asked Dodger.
  9. WarderDragon

    WarderDragon Babbling Loonie
    Stratics Veteran Alumni Stratics Legend BRPA

    Oct 9, 2008
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    Nicholas draped himself across his favorite chair, kicking his leather boots atop the large black desk, and listened as the vinyl gear spun in the music box.

    Mograine had just left. The owner of the Cat's Lair had been an invaluable source of information, perhaps because people seemed to trust the good natured old man, but business was still slow. There were no hauntings, no vengeful ghosts. No creatures of the night parading around in someone elses meat. No Necromantic cults attempting to resurrect a dead god from his slumber, or Werewolves terrorizing unsuspecting farmers. It was as though the supernatural threats that most Britannians still regard as myth had gone to sleep, leaving nothing to keep him entertained. The vinyl gear changed songs with a low click. Worse still, no one had attempted to kill him in weeks. He was going to start gaining weight if he didn't get a good workout.

    Insomnia forced a single lid open, his cold, almost inhuman eye drifting across the table. It was a mess of post-Apocalyptic proportions, a cacophony of scattered papers and notes draped across its polished surface. Books written in Enochian script. Schematics detailing the creation of various ancient tools and weapons. A repeating crossbow and a pair of bolts dipped in holy oil were propped against a bottle of hot sauce. The chain of a silver serpent pendant wound around the base of the table lamp. The crumpled wrapper of a cheeseburger lingered amongst the mess, a bottle of Jack Vesper's and a perspiring glass sat atop a Black Compendium.

    A picture had fallen flat amongst the lingering chaos. He bent forward to right it, propping the stand against the leatherbound grimoire. It was the portrait of a woman, her long, chestnut hair spilling down across her shoulders. He wrapped his finger around the glass and sat back, staring at the picture as though she could stare back at him.

    The ice in the glass clicked and stirred as he lifted it to his lips. “Perhaps it's for the best,” he intoned, as he lifted the glass to his lips and drank.

    The door to the tower groaned in protest and stopped, as though someone had attempted to enter in silence. And failed. Miserably.

    Nicholas cocked a brow, and let his arm drape across the chairs. He sensed her long before he could smell her; a female, her heart beating like a piston, her breath loud in the sepulchral silence of the once abandoned manor. He detected the faint scent of spice, sage, parsley, rosemary and tyme, along with the faint jingle of jewels and bangles. Gypsy. There was nothing better than a pretty lady visiting in the dead of night, especially one in heat.

    And then he detected something more, something familiar. The scent of steel, leather and gunpowder. The click of weapons. That could only mean one thing: Fawn.

    “You've got to be joking me...”