Blade and Women

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flower
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Blade and Women

Post by flower » Mon Feb 12, 2018 1:00 pm

The male was sitting with back against wall. Body in one big fire. He barely remembered, what happened. The student patrol ambushed in places, where no danger had been supposed to be. Their leader, older student and novice of temple, both responsible for their first walk outside, ordered them to charge and fled.

His hand found botle of spirit, like in a dream he uncorked it and took drink. What followed after, is like being fogged.
The shouting, screaming. Limbs laying there and here. He knew only his choice, choice to stay and fight that Umber Hulk, tugging wounded here away and that one from there as well. Trying to fight the thing when it was cutting another student in half.
And he had no idea how he managed to outlive it.

Lowered down, checking on his friend. Micarlin was laying under cover, but this time he noticed, the drow stopped breathing. Gone. His friend is gone. Friend? Drow lips formed a grin. His companion would rather run off, then tug him along, trying to keep him alive.
The man took a deep breath, pain shooting into side. But he already knew, he will survive. And he is not going to return.

Somehow, despite the terrors drow just witnessed, he liked it. The adrenalin from fighting powerful monstrum. Blood pumping in veins, when dragging wounded across caves, never to know a moment of another ambush. And no cowerdly noble boy to command him around, while
having no guts to fight it too.

He made decision. A choice of path. His lifepath will be the adventure and constant blade-improvement.



The ship is disappearing in darkness. He watched it, until it got gone from sight completely. The drow male took slow look around.
One pocket empty, the other ripped apart, as they say. In hand few last coins. From city to city. From contract to contract. And last one, did not turn out well.

Empty bottle crashed against the wall of building. There went his last gold. It matters not, for as long as he owns a blade, he is fine. Risverin took a deep breath. It does not matter, what you fight for. What your ideals are. Or moral stances. The life is crude swine, and will always ruin it.
Smile formed on his lips. But he adjusted to the life. It taught him, you must take things as they come. Ideals hold no value. The only safe thing is your blade work, your skills which you aim to perfect. It will give you all or take all away from you. Your wealth, stance, freedom.

"It is time to find some gold. Beer, or women. Not neccesary in that order," flashed in mind of drow. He managed before, in either of grand cities, he will manage here as well.

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Re: Blade and Women

Post by flower » Mon Feb 12, 2018 1:04 pm

Woman yelled and severed left arm from Ogrillion. The tribesman died in loos of blood and painshock. Then she simple rushed ahead. Outside of his cover. Again. "Women," sighed he out. He hurried after her. They spent so many cycles together now. The most hilarious thing is, he remembers not how they met! But their partnership worked. He blocked foes, and she pommeled them down. Together they advanced fast, faster then are able to obtain gear.

He would bet, originally planned it only as intermidiete fun. But he failed and got too close to her. Despite her to impersonate everything he despised. She wants riches. He despises gold. She dreams of tens of slaves working and jumping around her. He hates anyone taking freedom of others away. What did charm him that much? Her crude way with greatsword? Or that she, like him, goes firmly for her goal. He thought of it many times now, over many bottles of beers.
But their cooperation brought tons of gold to his account. He gained improvement in his skills. And also a companion he likes.

His future is tightly tied to her, least for few decades to come. Others call her his mistress, or think he is serving her. Both of them know, it is not true, and he is spending time with her on his free will. So far he would breath for her, but she does not need to know. He is already itchy enough each time she talks down someone. And beside, his favorite doing is putting her off with flattering or with taunting comments.

All that time spent laying low and avoiding nobles and politicians. Until that unhappy message on board. The petty Soren did not handle it, and run to put bounty. Who cares? The sum is pretty high for someone like him, a commoner from street, unknown sellsword. It warmed his heart. Maybe he will place same bounty back on Soren, to make him know he knows. For a moment, the sellsword considered paying it off. But then, what is life without adrenaline? And challenge?

Matron conjured him last cycle, she felt need to explain herself. Exactly the thing you are not to do. You either stand behind your actions and let deeds talk, or explaining and excusing yourself makes you look weak and irrelevant. What she gained with him witnessing matron standing up to Ezra, she lost by her speech. The politic is one big shit, and he will not get into it. Not for a time...if you cannot win this war, train yourself for the one coming after.

And, crap, that vampire had higher bounty. A clear sign he has a large distance to gap yet!

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Re: Blade and Women

Post by flower » Fri Mar 16, 2018 12:05 pm

Winter softly falling to the ground, calmly waiting don't you hear a sound, when the world has fallen to the depths below where the future's open and the fear has grown. And the path to follow to the great unknown where the dark has fallen and the seed is sown. In the selfish hearts of some the nightmare's coming with the spilling blood of others, now wringing through, now the cup is spilling over, wake to news of death.

And the prophecy of sages, destiny is met, to the depths of drow mind, the cry is burning with the mentor's anger. Of the lesson ringing true and for those who live by and are dying by the sword, they will take their ideals with them, justify their end. Where the fools are lying and the meek are crying, where the hounds are preying on the weak alone, and the distant sound of sword clashes, begins again. When the world has fallen, and we stand alone...




Tavern got busy. Risverin finished his mug of ale and leant back, when two companions joined him. "Captain did not like your departure," said warrior with scarred face. "Especially the one without permission. You just walked off, in the middle of action!" commented the other. He then opened bag and placed head of small girl onto table. "No worries," stated first one, "the job got finished. You got her mother and we finished rest. Captain says you can return...but she cannot trust you anymore to be her leutnant further." nodded and waved hand on Innkeeper, to order booze.
Drow warrior stared at the terror caught in eyes of five years old child. Or her head. Fingers gripped on mug. Over almost a century of slaying, murdering all, men, women, children. Then one look at a child suddenly stopped his blade. And instead, instead of making a decision, he just walked off.
"Time change, i will not return," replied.
"Hmm yes captain expected this answer. We are to wish you the best then," the other guy grinned and flashed a smile.
Risverin looked at him, calmly. Then motion him closer. "There is something you need to know," said to him. The man inclined towards him. "Yes?"
"I am out of ale," whispered Risverin to him. Then the heavy mug shattered over head of drow, the impact forcing him down. Risverin jumped up, hand drawing blade. But they knew him well. Scarred face already pierced his ringmail with thin dagger, sharp pain shot into body, and forced Risverin back into chair. Dagger pulled out, and wounded warrior touch the wound, just to watch his blood flooding out.
"Nothing personal, just cannot let you run off with captain's sword, armour, helmet, shield...hm even boots she owns," said in joyful manner the one raising from the ground.
Risverin took breath in, heavily. "None...insult taken," answered, in sarcasm. They looked at each other in laughter. "Lets finish our mugs...then see you to the river, to say a farewell."

The memories got interrupted. Footsteps. The drow kept closed eyes, bottle of ale in right hand hanging over edge of bath tub. The other hand resting on another side. Across tub laying bare longsword. Not that it would help, as armour, shield and alike were piled up next to the tub.
"Maestro Warden!" claimed drow and hoped, he is not wrong. Falgrim Vinterguard stopped and eyed the scene. A drow in the empty baths of Sibayad, bathin in one tub, like he would belong to that. And then, Risverin just made a grand motion of hand with ale, pointing at another tub. "There is a room, Falgrim." Dwarf raised eye brow. "Thanks, i will stand," replied. He drew a bit closer, and drow finally opened eyes. "I would hope you would bring company of some elven maid," teased the dwarf, and then stood up, picked towel, dried himself and dressed up. After all, he cannot sit in warm water while warden stands.
Both began their chat. From Cyrics, to drow position below, touching his companion, Saslae, and few other topics. They talked and talked, and hours were passing.

By a coincidence, long time after, Risverin came up to the Brogenstein. handing over looted axe to its owner. He asked the dwarf, who turned out to be Falgrim's clansman, to not be stupid and more careful when jumping into a trap. Dwarf's companion laughed wildly, claiming everyone tells him the same.

The encounters with Vinterguards left respect within drow warrior. He would wish the honor they uphold was not such expansive luxury to him. If he could stand side by side, with them in battle! But that is not going to happen. He will stand with his kin and companions, even when he despises their acts and methods. He asked Falgrim to give gentler treatment to Saslae, but time had to prove, how big hassle she would become for them. She even gained a nickname from them.

But foes can drink time to time together and chat over things. And he will get Falgrim to the table soon, again.


Risverin walked up to the shelve of his library...where he replaced books with bottles. Picked one from Brogenstein and uncorked it. He would just drop the cork and bottle after somewhere on ground, but not in his room. Who would clean it? While sipping ale, his thoughts has spinned about recent events. He finally gathered large sum of gold, to buy off Ulviira from Delano. But she is gone now. He knew her sister is some Qilnafae...and Gorudan seemed to know her. That much he owed to the clergy on Promenade. His intent was to buy her and keep hand over her until she frees herself from collar. Vaenthil could help. Ah yes. Vaenthil. Should sit along with him, for a drink, or two too. He made a stance against Vance, on behalf of Risverin.
Turned around and walked back to bed, sitting on edge of it. But ownership of drow woman can raise a concern and some from Temple may even remember why she ended in collar. "Screw that," grumbled and took drink. Lets sort the shit when it hits him. Not now.

Enough he broke the basic rule, that old merc taught him upon joining company century ago. "Never mess with clergy bitches, it never ends well," said the old warrior. He was right. Priestess Talice ignored his flattering, until sudden interest in past cycles. She needed him to retrain her abilities. He, a simple minded, former mercenary, used to live from moment to moment, fell for that trap. Under lure of moving items and helping her she brought him into her bedroom, and he let his desires to entrap himself. Had to expect she would put a claim onto him, but his long term absence from drow society made him naive like some youngling first time dropped out of the house into streets. And he dared not to stand up to her, especially not on temple ground. That is the place male can sometimes not to return.
He shared the event with Saslae. And things got complicated. "I saw you first", told him. Even after two years spent with her, the drow was unable to tell her motives. Is she really trying to free him from bind to the priestess, or did she get jealous...or possesive or maybe all three at once? One thing is what she says, and the other what she aims for.
Talice became highly upset, and tasked him to reject Saslae. The situation began to become hilarious, Falgrim will laugh, but Risverin, cannot. He made attempt to persuade priestess of the banshee. He mentioned one is Llothite and second priestess of Kiaransalee, and implied the clash could cause troubles in temple, in hopes she would let it be. No. It did not work. He maybe even done things worse.

Took drink and frowned. One is Llothite. Sworn enemie to his Eilistraee. Second is priestess to the goddess who hates his own as well. But the first one never asked anything from him, ever, rejected being "personal" with him, and often helped to steer things in his favor behind shadows. Even declared she would make stand for him against assasins, when those idiots botched the assasination. And the priestess proved interest only when needed him, and never really cared for his own will, just plainly telling he belongs to her after using him in bed. He did like her, but he highly disliked that manner of handling him. Drow finished his bottle. Corked it. "This has no good solution for me, I am screwed," whispered to the dark of the room.


In time
Bleeding wounds will heal
Unlike some which
Are too deep to see

Like scars
In the nomad's soul
Their mending
Is so slow

Not the shout
Of a hundred enemies
Can make him feel
Fear inside him

But when darkness sets
And the cold arrives
With crushing solitude
In the darkness of below

He will ride
Across land and time
To find a way
Through this endless night

There's a storm in his heart
And the fire burns his soul
But the wanderer's part
Is to ride alone

With bare hands
He has taken many lives
He has had a hundred women
By his side

From Menzoberranzar streets
To the freezing Andunor
And far beyond

As the Moon grows
And the circle is complete
He lies down
And waits for sleep

But there's always
A scenery in his mind
Of all that Menzoberrazarian beauty
He once left behind


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