Post by jujumojo on Mar 6, 2011 7:30:27 GMT -5
Lost, Stolen and Squandered.
The boat inn was bustling with activity when Rimieh walked in, couples sitting and laughing at tables, groups discussing business under clouds of thick pipe smoke, barmaids and waitresses busy weaving between chairs and people taking care of the orders.
He was dust and salt covered from the road and the spray of the unruly sea outside.. he was drunk, and he was weary.
He took one of the stools at the bar and ordered more of his usual whiskey. Beside him was a man.. a foreigner, obviously, but then... most were in this place...
The man wore heavy armour of gold and black. Rimieh vaguely wondered why he was so heavily protected as he looked him over -- and stared at the sword hilt in the scabbard at the man's hip.
Sipped at his drink.
So familiar.. It looks just like......
The whiskey sprayed over the bar as he spat it out and drew steel upon the armoured man, who at first looked startled... then amused.
Rimieh sprang for his throat, but the man shoved forward, tackling him to the floor - crushing him with the full plate armour.
"NNRRGH!"
Alarmed shouts went up around them as the two struggled.. the soldier unsheathed the beautiful elven sword with the golden blade and held it mockingly to Rimieh's throat as he gasped for breath.
"Shouldn't you be dead, 'Rimieh'?" The man emphasised the name with a mocking tone.
"I was wondering when you would show up."
But the elf barely heard him.. intent only on the sword... he grabbed for it desperately, catching the blade in his right hand - as the armoured man yanked it away from him it cut into his flesh savagely...
And then the bouncer dragged the armoured man away.
Another kept Rimieh pressed to the floor so he could cause no more trouble.
His hand bled hot blood as he struggled and growled fiercely.
"NO!!"
The gold and black armoured man laughed while he was dragged out, as the door was slammed behind him.
___________________________________________________
"How... quaint." She hissed in common tainted with a thick drow accent.
"It seems... that I will be taking two from you, commander. Thoughtful of you to bring the whole family along..."
The wicked grin that followed sickened him to the core and he tasted fear... confusion, hope... - What was that she had said? Two? ... Surely not... - despair....All in one twisted mesh of emotion that agonised and divided his mind just as the drow priestess had wanted.
He struggled hard - but the drow held him tightly, slammed their boots into the backs of his knees painfully until he buckled - held up by their vile hands and forced to watch.
And all he saw were her eyes.
Bright emerald eyes biting into his. So afraid...
So afraid.
She had never been so afraid.
...
___________________________________________________
Dust. Everywhere, grey dust in the darkness.
Not a breath, not one... not even his own. His hands shook and his lungs pleaded with him for air, but he couldn't breathe.
His mage had saved them... had called upon the magics to collapse the ceiling of the black cavern. Killing the drow that had been left to dispatch him after the priestess had destroyed her and departed... The mage had killed herself with that spell, crushed by the same rocks that crushed their enemies.
He should be dead too... yet his lungs pleaded for air. His ribs were broken. An Arm. An ankle. Scrapes. Bruises. He didn't notice.
The air was thick with dust and death.
Grey and heavy in the darkness.
His hands bled as he tried to dig through the massive rocks that had fallen. Scraping fingertips until they were raw down to the bones. A body that was too broken to shift rocks out of the way.
They were all dead. The elves. The drow.
But he didn't notice...
Because she was gone.
His hand brushed against the cold, stiff hand of a dead drow... and then touched what the drow had been holding...
An elegant sword hilt. So, so familiar, because it was hers.
The elegant sword with the golden blade.
His hand closed around it automatically as he finally sucked in a sharp breath of dusty air.
He didn't notice..
He squeezed his eyes shut as the breath ended in a fierce fit of blood laced coughing... and unconsciousness took him.
But he didn't notice, because she was gone.
___________________________________________________
He turned the letter over in his hands after reading it, delivered by Kale in Greatgaunt. The handwriting was curling and elegant - Lin's handwriting.
Finally tearing his gaze away from the message, he folded it carefully and put it away...
... Then reached for the whiskey bottle on the table in front of him.
___________________________________________________
He peeled away the roughly applied bandages to reveal the cuts.
One, running straight across the three symbols tattooed onto his right palm.
The other, running across the padded, fleshy part of his thumb.
Deep, fierce cuts - consistent wounds with him having grabbed hold of the blade of a sword...
Oenemi didn't wait for him to speak. But took his hand, cleaned and dressed the wounds.
So gently.
___________________________________________________
"There is no need for anyone else to hear of it.. unless you have a wish to tell others."
The sun elf looked up to Lustig's eyes again. The mage nodded.. his expression was sad.
Rimieh would have found it touching if he was not so focused on the irony.
"I will leave a letter for Lin, but I need you to speak to her if she doesn't find it."
"What would you have me tell her??"
He wished then, for the words... The right ones.
Instead he gave the ones that would have to suffice.
The boat inn was bustling with activity when Rimieh walked in, couples sitting and laughing at tables, groups discussing business under clouds of thick pipe smoke, barmaids and waitresses busy weaving between chairs and people taking care of the orders.
He was dust and salt covered from the road and the spray of the unruly sea outside.. he was drunk, and he was weary.
He took one of the stools at the bar and ordered more of his usual whiskey. Beside him was a man.. a foreigner, obviously, but then... most were in this place...
The man wore heavy armour of gold and black. Rimieh vaguely wondered why he was so heavily protected as he looked him over -- and stared at the sword hilt in the scabbard at the man's hip.
Sipped at his drink.
So familiar.. It looks just like......
The whiskey sprayed over the bar as he spat it out and drew steel upon the armoured man, who at first looked startled... then amused.
Rimieh sprang for his throat, but the man shoved forward, tackling him to the floor - crushing him with the full plate armour.
"NNRRGH!"
Alarmed shouts went up around them as the two struggled.. the soldier unsheathed the beautiful elven sword with the golden blade and held it mockingly to Rimieh's throat as he gasped for breath.
"Shouldn't you be dead, 'Rimieh'?" The man emphasised the name with a mocking tone.
"I was wondering when you would show up."
But the elf barely heard him.. intent only on the sword... he grabbed for it desperately, catching the blade in his right hand - as the armoured man yanked it away from him it cut into his flesh savagely...
And then the bouncer dragged the armoured man away.
Another kept Rimieh pressed to the floor so he could cause no more trouble.
His hand bled hot blood as he struggled and growled fiercely.
"NO!!"
The gold and black armoured man laughed while he was dragged out, as the door was slammed behind him.
___________________________________________________
"How... quaint." She hissed in common tainted with a thick drow accent.
"It seems... that I will be taking two from you, commander. Thoughtful of you to bring the whole family along..."
The wicked grin that followed sickened him to the core and he tasted fear... confusion, hope... - What was that she had said? Two? ... Surely not... - despair....All in one twisted mesh of emotion that agonised and divided his mind just as the drow priestess had wanted.
He struggled hard - but the drow held him tightly, slammed their boots into the backs of his knees painfully until he buckled - held up by their vile hands and forced to watch.
And all he saw were her eyes.
Bright emerald eyes biting into his. So afraid...
So afraid.
She had never been so afraid.
...
___________________________________________________
Dust. Everywhere, grey dust in the darkness.
Not a breath, not one... not even his own. His hands shook and his lungs pleaded with him for air, but he couldn't breathe.
His mage had saved them... had called upon the magics to collapse the ceiling of the black cavern. Killing the drow that had been left to dispatch him after the priestess had destroyed her and departed... The mage had killed herself with that spell, crushed by the same rocks that crushed their enemies.
He should be dead too... yet his lungs pleaded for air. His ribs were broken. An Arm. An ankle. Scrapes. Bruises. He didn't notice.
The air was thick with dust and death.
Grey and heavy in the darkness.
His hands bled as he tried to dig through the massive rocks that had fallen. Scraping fingertips until they were raw down to the bones. A body that was too broken to shift rocks out of the way.
They were all dead. The elves. The drow.
But he didn't notice...
Because she was gone.
His hand brushed against the cold, stiff hand of a dead drow... and then touched what the drow had been holding...
An elegant sword hilt. So, so familiar, because it was hers.
The elegant sword with the golden blade.
His hand closed around it automatically as he finally sucked in a sharp breath of dusty air.
He didn't notice..
He squeezed his eyes shut as the breath ended in a fierce fit of blood laced coughing... and unconsciousness took him.
But he didn't notice, because she was gone.
___________________________________________________
He turned the letter over in his hands after reading it, delivered by Kale in Greatgaunt. The handwriting was curling and elegant - Lin's handwriting.
Finally tearing his gaze away from the message, he folded it carefully and put it away...
... Then reached for the whiskey bottle on the table in front of him.
___________________________________________________
He peeled away the roughly applied bandages to reveal the cuts.
One, running straight across the three symbols tattooed onto his right palm.
The other, running across the padded, fleshy part of his thumb.
Deep, fierce cuts - consistent wounds with him having grabbed hold of the blade of a sword...
Oenemi didn't wait for him to speak. But took his hand, cleaned and dressed the wounds.
So gently.
___________________________________________________
"There is no need for anyone else to hear of it.. unless you have a wish to tell others."
The sun elf looked up to Lustig's eyes again. The mage nodded.. his expression was sad.
Rimieh would have found it touching if he was not so focused on the irony.
"I will leave a letter for Lin, but I need you to speak to her if she doesn't find it."
"What would you have me tell her??"
He wished then, for the words... The right ones.
Instead he gave the ones that would have to suffice.