Main Page |
<Tarri> ::It is nearing sundown. Tarri is heading home, her basket on her arm, her healer's greens wrinkled and stained with sweat and other, possibly less pleasant, substances. Her wide green eyes are rimmed with dark circles of exhaustion, and her normally neat blonde hair is a bit of a haystack.:: * Tarri pauses at an alley mouth, biting her lip as she considers the shortcut home. She glances up at the sun, then makes an almost futile effort to smooth the front of her tunic before starting down the alley, hoping to be through the rougher section of town and well on her way home before the sun is fully set. <Weasel> ::Marsember, not being what one might call a 'planned city' is a maze of back roads and side alleys. A particularly unsavory looking fellow lurks down one of these side alleys. On spotting Tarri, he steps forward, looking over his shoulder, as if worried:: Oh, t'ank de gods. A healer, mum? <Tarri> ::pauses, blinking a little in confusion, then nods:: I'm a healer, yes... What's the matter? <Weasel> ::bobs a clumsy... one couldn't even properly call it a bow at all:: Gots you herbs f'r de pain, mum? M'... m' girl, mum. She be hurtin', hurtin' bad. * Tarri looks in her basket, checking her inventory of assorted potions and remedies, and nods. "I've got a thing or two that might help." She draws a breath, squares her shoulders, and heads toward the man, preparing to follow him. "What happened to her?" <Weasel> ::draws back into the side alley:: Come, come... dem bad mens, de hurt her... she askin' fer sumpin' to make it stop... <Tarri> ::nods:: I'm coming, I'm coming... <Weasel> ::as Tarri crosses into the darker shadows of the alleyway, two more men detach themselves from inky shadows:: * Tarri - tired from a long day - doesn't notice the additions to the party. <Weasel> Dis way... dis way... She just down dis way... ::he beckons to Tarri, until they are out of sight from the mouth of the alley:: * Tarri follows the man, nodding and mouthing vague reassurances. <Weasel> ::this far end of the alley is truly vile, rags and rats filling the cobbles indiscriminately. There might, actually, at one point, *been* a girl here. If so, she stopped needing pain medication a long time ago. The smell might indicate so, at any rate. One man behind Tarri puts a meaty hand on her shoulder:: * Tarri gasps and spins around. "What-?" <Big Thug> ::the larger man laughs:: How 'bout dat, Mac. She still a live 'un. Now, jus' be handin' over dat bag, mum. * Tarri blinks at this speech. "The- the girl?" Slowly, her exhaustion-fogged brain fires. "There's no girl?" <Weasel> ::the shorter, weasely fellow chortles:: Not since de las' one, mum.... ::he leers at her:: <Tarri> ::eyes widening:: No. No. ::she draws a deeper breath, and screams:: NO! ::she tries to run back toward the alley mouth:: * Dagred looks up from a rib-bone he was crunching. "What the -?" <Little Thug> ::the second, medium-sized fellow pushes her onto the cobblestones:: Don' be in such a *hurry*, girlie. We jus' wanna be havin' some fun... <Dagred> ::he drops the rib on the ground, jumping to his feet:: <Dagred> ::looking around he tries to discern the source of the scream, finding it, he sets out at a run, drawing his blade:: * Tarri screams again, but rolls nimbly as she hits the ground and pops up onto her feet. "Stay away from me!" * Dagred darts down an alley, rushing into the growing darkness, able to see clearly with his orc-born nightvision:: <Weasel> ::grabs a rusty knife from his belt:: Now, don' be like dat. You be a good girl, and we be lettin' you go. After a bits. <Tarri> Get *back*! ::she backs away from Weasel:: <Big Thug> ::agrees:: Don' be makin' it harder den it needs ta be. * Dagred whirls into a tiny back alley. "Stop right there!" He takes in the scene. <Little Thug> ::snickers rudely:: Talk fa yerself. Mine's already *hard* enough. * Tarri whirls, trying to watch all three attackers at the same time, her eyes sparking angrily. "Keep your filthy hands off me!" <Dagred> ::Dagred is a 6'9" tall Goblinoid-Human halfbreed with coarse black hair, thick, bushy eyebrows, a wide, flat nose (slightly crooked from having been broken), thick lips over yellowish Goblinoid fanged teeth, a heavy jaw, and enormous neck and shoulder muscles. His skin is an earthy tan with just a touch of green to reveal his Goblinoid blood. His eyes are almost black with a greenish sheen. He weighs in at over 425 pounds of lean muscle and Goblinoid-heavy bone.:: <Dagred> ::He wears armor consisting of overlapping vertical bands of hammered steel riveted to a chain mesh that covers his torso and upper arms and has flaps that extend past his waist over the leather pantaloons he wears beneath. His boots are made of heavy leather. On his side hangs a massive broadsword and in his belt are tucked two daggers, one of which has an elaborate handle.:: * Dagred stands his full height, six and a half feet of thick muscle, and brandishes his broadsword, letting it gleam in the dim moonlight. <Dagred> Leave the woman alone. You want a fight, you've got one! <Big Thug> ::turns around and looks up. And up.:: Hey! We ain't sharin' here! <Tarri> ::a touch desperately:: Help me! * Dagred glares at the Big Thug, baring his orc fangs. "You'll share in death if you don't run ... now!" <Little Thug> ::backs up a little:: Ain't *lookin'* for a fight... whatchoo t'ink we wants a *woman* for... * Dagred places one huge paw on the woman, shoving for her to get behind him. * Tarri has approximately a quarter of Dagred's mass, and finds herself behind him, whether she wants to be or not. * Dagred snarls, "Beat it, or I start beating you!" <Weasel> ::decides discretion is the better part of... something or other... he's already gone before his friends turn to look for him:: <Big Thug> ::snorts, drawing a sword that looks like it might have been used a few times before:: I don' t'ink so. You wants a woman, go get yer own. * Dagred lets the Weasel run off and turns his attention to the other two. * Tarri squeaks as the big thug draws a sword. "Just *leave*, damn it all! Before the Purple Dragons get here!" <Dagred> ::moving his free hand to the amulet at his neck, previously concealed in his armor, and begins muttering ... something:: <Little Thug> ::sighs, but pulls a few darts from his ratty shirt:: I t'inkin' dis is a mistake, but in fer a penny, in fer a pound. ::he flips one dart easily at Dagred:: * Dagred glares at the Little Thug and grunts out "Don't move!" * Dagred notes his timing was off, the dart bears down on him, and sheer luck had it hit the top of his armor instead of his throat! <Big Thug> ::his eyes widen at the sight of an orcish spellcaster, but moves to close with him, swinging with what might actually have been skill, several years of drunken stuporings ago:: * Tarri backs away from the combatants, giving Dagred space, as if she's familiar with being around warriors. <Little Thug> ::curses and by the rolling of his eyes, appears to be attempting to struggle in the grip of... something:: * Dagred trusts his Goddess to restrain the dart-throwing Thug and whirls with his blade at the Big Thug, parrying the drunken attack before lunging with his head in a bull rush. <Big Thug> ::manages one graceful move in his entire life, and dodges out of the way, giving Dagred a clear head-butt at the nearby brick wall:: * Dagred charges heavily into the wall, stumbles backwards shaking his head, mumbling, "Some strategy, Dag." <Big Thug> ::kicks at the back of Dagred's knee, which he is recovering:: Go *away*. Don' wants to be fightin' over dis lil noffink girl. She be breakin', if you go stickin' her wiff *yours*. * Tarri shrieks, more angry than frightened now, and snatches up some trash, throwing it at the thug. * Dagred stumbles again, falling to one knee, but lunges viciously with the sword at the Thug as he's still (hopefully) off-balance on one leg. <Big Thug> ::covered with rotten banana peels and even less desirable substances, he takes a deep cut in one calf, staggering backwards, howling with pain:: Bast'id! * Tarri winces and turns away, covering her eyes. <Tarri> ::whispering:: Go away, run away, please, just run away now... * Dagred grins evilly, "Now THAT'S the way to fight!" Smelling blood, his orc-bred bloodlust begins to surface. <Dagred> ::quickly he scrambles to his feet and gives the "bring it on" hand gesture:: <Big Thug> ::his hand dips into his scruffy jacket pocket and he brings out a small packet of... something:: Fine, den. You take 'er. I find me another. ::he throws the packet in Dagred's face and noticing that Little Thug seems to be regaining the use of his limbs, grabs his friend's arm and they take off running:: * Dagred gets a face full of burning powder. "Aaah!" He whirls blindly with his sword - dangerously close to the damsel he came to rescue! * Tarri sobs once at the sound of running footsteps. "Oh, thank you, thank you, Blessed Mother..." She turns around to thank her rescuer just in time to narrowly dodge the tip of his sword. "Yike!" She backs away another several steps, hurriedly. "...Sir? Are you all right?" * Dagred swipes again blindly with the blade, unaware the Thugs have fled. "I'll KILL you, bastard!" <Tarri> ::raising her voice somewhat:: Sir! They're gone! They ran! <Dagred> Ran? Ran? Which way? I'll kill them both! ::he begins to stumble, still blindly, before running into a wall:: * Tarri runs forward and catches Dagred's arm. "Sir, please! You're hurt!" * Dagred turns, his eyes squinty and bloodshot, blood flowing from his busted nose. "What? Hurt? Me?" <Tarri> Your eyes... ::She starts, her eyes widening in fear as she gets her first clear look at his face and the evidence of his mixed heritage. She draws a quick breath and forces herself to reach up to brush blood and acrid powder from his face:: Look, you're bleeding. * Dagred calms a bit, aware of the salty taste of his own thick, dark blood. Coming to his senses he asks, "Are you all right?" <Tarri> ::nods quickly:: Just a little bruised, thanks to you. ::she fishes in her basket and comes up with a rag, which she tentatively uses to dab blood from his face:: There's not many in this part of town who'd have helped me. ::her hands are shaking violently, fear and adrenaline reaction combined:: * Orlann is wandering around town, curious as to the lateness of his girlfriend, with whom he had *specifically* made a date for dinner that evening. He is not wearing his Purple Dragons tabard, but his bearings are still that of a military sort. He wears his double-bladed sword across his back. His brown skin and long black braids are set off nicely by the creamy white shirt he is wearing. He traces Tarri's usual route backwards to her shop. * Dagred grabs her hand. "That's not necessary, m'lady." He notes her trembling, and her revulsion. "I'm Dagred Brogson, Priest of the Red Knight. I can heal myself." <Tarri> ::jumps slightly, then blushes:: I'm so sorry, Master Brogsen, I- I'm just a little... jittery... * Dagred smiles, though it's a bit unsettling baring those orcish fangs of his, "I get that a lot. Let's get you out of this alley and back to lighted streets." * Orlann pauses at the mouth of a particularly nasty alley. "Naw, she... " He sighs. "Yeah, she would. Dangit, Tarri." He steps down the alley cautiously. <Tarri> ::returns his smile a little tentatively:: It must get tiresome. I'm... I'm Tarri Mandeil. Just a simple healer. ::her smile becomes sheepish:: I really should know better than to take these shortcuts, but... * Orlann turns the corner and sees Tarri. He is a big man, about as tall, although not quite as bulky, as Dagred. He stops dead in his tracks as he sees Tarri's 'companion.' <Dagred> Lady Mandeil, you should have a man escort you ... * Dagred sees another large man enter and raises his blade, ready to battle again if need be. <Tarri> ::soberly:: I know. It's a terrible- ::she jumps as Dagred lifts his blade, and looks up toward the corner:: No! Oh, no, don't! <Orlann> ::graceful as a dancer, Orlann draws his double-bladed sword, holding it slightly behind him at the ready:: Tarri, darling? * Dagred glances at Tarri ... "Darling? You know this man, m'lady?" * Orlann looks *vastly* offended, but stands slightly more at ease, although he does not resheath his sword. * Tarri takes several quick steps forward, into the space between them. "Don't, please!" She gives Dagred a quick, nervous smile. "He's my boyfriend. It's all right, truly!" She turns back to Orlann. "'Lann, love, this is... is Master Dagred Brogson. He... was just about to escort me to safer territory." <Orlann> ::blinks:: Yer kiddin'? * Dagred raises a brow, considers a moment, then raises his sword in a warrior's-salute. <Tarri> No, of course not! He's a priest, and heard- That is, he got me out of a... a bit of a sticky spot, just now. <Dagred> Hail and well met, sir ... Lann? <Orlann> ::despite his misgivings, he returns the salute:: Lieutenant Orlann Drilgar. ::turns to Tarri:: What... sticky spot? * Dagred interrupts, "Seems your lady wandered into a dark alley without escort, Lieutenant." <Tarri> ::looking embarrassed:: Just a couple of men, love. Nothing to- ::she casts Dagred a look of mute appeal:: <Orlann> ::glowers:: Ayah. Wish y'the best of luck, attendin' to *that* flaw in her character. I ain't been tellin' her not t'do it for years t'any sorta good effect. * Tarri manages to look very remorseful. * Orlann does not look particularly convinced. <Dagred> I see. Well, perhaps we should both accompany her out of this dark alley. The stench is getting to even my nose. <Tarri> ::quickly, like a child grasping for an opportunity to escape - or at least delay - a scolding, Tarri agrees:: That's very good of you, Master Brogson... ::she tucks her arm through Orlann's, and gives him a quick, appealing smile.:: <Orlann> ::slowly, he returns his double-bladed sword to its sheath:: Ayah. Ain't 'xactly the finest part o' Marsember. ::he pauses, sizing up Dagred, then offers his hand:: I reckon I... owe y'a debt of gratitude. <Dagred> No debt sir. But I graciously accept your gratitude. Could you perhaps recommend a good inn and tavern ... that won't turn away one of my ... breed? <Dagred> I've had numerous doors slammed in my face the last few days. <Orlann> ::nods slowly:: Ayeh, I c'n do that. Y' been here in town fer long? <Dagred> I arrived last eve and was forced to sleep in the streets. I'd rather not do that again. <Dagred> I've been able to explore a bit today but haven't seen much of the inside of any structures. <Dagred> Seems there's still some resentment of orc-breed. I guess I can understand that. <Dagred> But I assure you sir, I fought with Cormyrean soldiers against the orcs. <Tarri> ::bites her lip, and nods:: The war... There are places that still haven't been rebuilt. <Orlann> ::gives rather detailed directions to a street in the western part of town:: The Meade Hall. I reckon that Rhys'll letcha stay, on m'sayso. Y'tell 'im that Lt. Orlann vouches f'r ya. <Tarri> ::nods vigorously:: And me, too. * Dagred nods. "Thank you, sir. And, Lieutenant, I'm seeking a temple to the Red Knight, or Tempus. Might there be one in town?" <Tarri> ::chews her lip:: There's a little chapel to Tempus, I think, not far from the Street of Steel... <Dagred> And the Red Knight? <Tarri> ::shakes her head:: I haven't heard of the Red Knight... But if he's affiliated with Tempus, surely the priests there would be able to give you more information... <Orlann> ::shrugs:: I ain't 'xactly th' most religious fellow, but I reckon they'd know... iffen there is such a thing, hereabouts. <Dagred> SHE is ... affiliated. Thank you, I'll go down there tomorrow. * Orlann blushes, although with his deep brown skin, it is more like he darkens. "M' apologies." * Dagred bows again ... quite the "civilized" half-orc when he tries ... "I bid you good night, m'lady, Lieutenant." <Orlann> ::nods:: I reckon we'll be seein' y'again. Take t'drinkin' down at the Meadehall, from time t'time. * Tarri returns Dagred's bow with a little dip of a curtsey. "Thank you so much, Master Brogson. I'll look forward to meeting you again in... calmer circumstances." <Dagred> Indeed, m'lady. <Dagred> Assuming I can get a room at this Meade Hall, I'll be staying there for a while. <Dagred> Perhaps we can meet again sometime. <Tarri> I hope so. * Dagred turns, takes note of the street, trying to remember the directions Orlann gave him, and takes off towards the MeadeHall. * Orlann takes Tarri's arm firmly and turns her towards their tiny flat. "Now, darling... I'll be wantin' t' know all about this here 'sticky spot.' |
|
|