Private Tales Chapter One: Survival In the Wild

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer
Verys Synsere

Verys Synsere

Probably in trouble.
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The “road less traveled” could definitely be used to describe many roads, but not this one. It was one of the wide, well-tended roads that lead towards the the orcish city of Bhathairk, oft-traveled and thoroughly mapped. The dirt underneath was packed solid, in many places having been replaced with flat, worn stones where the road was prone to getting muddy or soggy during the rains. The trees on either side, when present in dense clumps before yielding to the flat plains, arched over top, not encroaching on the road itself.

It was a road that got safer the closer to the city one got, but this was still a good day or two’s hard gallop to the city proper. The tribe’s reach was thin here..

That didn’t seem to matter to the lone young woman strolling along the road. Her brilliant red hair was pulled back into a messy bun, tendrils of scarlet having escaped every which way to frame her face… which was currently buried between the pages of a rather large, rather old looking book. It was leather bound with a gilded gold symbol on the front, what looked like a large lock having previously held the pages shut. Now, however, they were open, and the young woman was pouring over them, hardly cognizant of her feet as they bore her forward. At her side, a large rucksack that was oddly shaped -- like it was filled with books and not much else -- bounced with each step, her skirts swishing around her ankles.

As buried as she was in her book, she certainly didn’t seem to realize that she wasn’t alone. In fact, four men had fallen in behind her, none bearing any sort of travelling gear but each armed. They slowly fanned out, obviously not in any rush as they waited for a copse of trees that she was going to pass in just a few minutes… If she’d but look up, she might realize that she was in danger.

However, instead of looking up, she turned a page, burying her nose even further in the book…
 
Udalof strode along the road, with long, fast strides. His posture wasn't that of a nobleman, but it wasn't that of a commoner either. His back was straight and his shoulders forward, his arms at his side's but at a very sharp angle from his body. His long black hair was allowed to flow freely down his back, it's crowlike colour giving him a shady appearance. His skin was a light tan colour, telling those who looked at him that he spent most of his time outdoors. He wore lamellar armour, including shoulder plates, bracers, greaves and thigh guards. At his hip was a hilt and a half bastard sword, over his shoulders was a travelling cloak, over which was a quiver of arrows and a recurve bow.

His armoured boots hit the dirt road with soft but audible footsteps. As he came upon a stretch of road flanked by trees a woman with her face in a book came into his sight, she was being followed by armed men. By the looks of them, they were highwaymen, thieves. He calmly pulled out his recurve in preparation to fire.
 
The appearance of Udalof certainly seemed to give the armed men a bit of a pause -- they sort of all glanced towards the man who was closed to the red-head, as if trying to find out what he wanted them to do. The man gestured to the two men closest to the side of the road Udalof was on, and they nodded their understanding.

They moved quickly along the road, passing the redhead and drawing her head from the book for the very first time. She was young, barely out of her teens, her eyes big and dark-lashed and the color of the sun through a thick canopy of leaves, a smattering of freckles across her pale cheeks. Certainly not the sort of person one would expect to find strolling down a rode by themselves in the middle of what was essentially barren wilderness. She tilted her head to one side as she took in the two men and the stranger they were striding towards.

“Hey,” the man in front called to Udalof, with this overly friendly smile. “Don’t worry about things, right? Just keep moving along, mind your own business, and we’ll mind our own business too.” His tone deepened, taking on a threatening air, even as he moved his coat to one side to reveal the long, curved scimitar at his side. Pointedly insinuating that if Udalof didn’t mind his own business and keep moving on, he’d be happy to use it… At the same time, the other thief who’d moved with him was stepping to one side, putting enough distance that if Udalof tried to shoot one of them, the other would be able to reach him before he had a chance to reload his arrow.

Right about that time, the redhead drew even with the copse of trees -- and the leader of the highwaymen surged forward. A hand went over her mouth, one around her waist, and without even a sound from her, she was lifted and drug off the road. It happened in a blink of an eye, fast and practiced, and the man speaking to Udalof stepped forward again.

“Hey. Moving on, yeah?” he said pointedly, gesturing back the way Udalof had come.

Before the newcomer had a chance to answer, however, there was a sudden burst of activity from the trees. Specifically, an explosion of hollering and screaming from the two men who dashed out of the trees, slapping at themselves and at the bees that filled the air around them, a dense, stinging, buzzing, dive-bombing cloud… it made the two men in front of Udalof turn to look, staring in shock at what they saw.
 
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The minute he saw the woman get grabbed he launched an arrow into the throat of the one who had been speaking. He fell to the ground choking on an arrowhead and his blood. Without the time to knock another arrow, he dropped his bow and reached across to draw his sword and cut down the second man.

Their swords met a couple of times, but in the end it was pointless. Udalof drove his sword into the man's gut, twisted it, then pulled it out. He then moved on to the two men being attacked by bees, by picking up his bow and shooting them. After they were dead he ran into the underbrush, sword in hand, looking for more highway bandits.
 
He dispatched all four with quick efficiency, though the two closest to the clumping of trees were still covered with angry bees. The insects buzzed about him angrily as he charged into the underbrush, though most of them left him alone in favor of clumping around the shattered bee hive on the ground near one of the tree trunks.

He wouldn’t find any other bandits, but he would find the young woman, laying on the ground, curled up with her cloak over top of her. A few bees crawled along the fabric, but having it on top of her had protected her from the very angry swarm. As he watched, a slim hand slipped out from underneath the cloak, feeling around until she came in contact with the book that had fallen not too far from her. Then, carefully, she pulled the book underneath the cloak with her --

-- the motion of which revealed his boots to her gaze.

A second later, she shoved herself to her feet, satchel banging at her side, as she wielded the book like she was going to smack him with it. Like that was going to fend him off. Still, she brandished the book with this determined look on her face.

“I may be out of bees, but I have a book! And no money, so, really, this is a very ill-fated and definitely unrewarding robbery attempt!”
 
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"Calm down. I'm not one of them. I am unsure of whether to be impressed or disappointed with your travelling skills. What were you doing all the way out here alone and unarmed?"

The book wasn't very intimidating, but it was probably better than her hands. Either way, he was a far bigger threat to her than she was to him. He made no attempt to appear threatening to her, and instead held his hands out to show that he meant her no harm.
 
As soon as he’d said he wasn’t one of the thieves, the redhead lowered the book. “Oh, okay!” she chimed, not seeming to have a second thought to the effect that this could have been a ploy or that he could have been lying to her about not being a threat to her. Instead, she tucked the book into the crook of her arm, tenderly smoothing one of the page edges that had gotten bent over in the hubbub.

“Well, that’s a long story,” she said in response to him asking what she was doing all the way out here, then tilted her head. “I ran away! … oh, I guess it’s not really that long of a story. Hah! It’s been a long journey though. So many nice people, like you! Some not nice people… and there was that one time I got kidnapped by slavers… but it’s all worked out so far.”

She smiled brightly, tucking the book back into the large satchel at her side. If he was looking, he’d catch a glimpse of some ration packets shoved in there as well, but it seemed like it was predominantly full of books and a few scrolls in their protective tubes. Hands freed, she reached up and raked her fingers through her hair, which had come loose from its bun and was now a cascade of unruly scarlet curls around her shoulders. Getting it into at least a ponytail so it was slightly contained, she then stuck her hand out.

“I’m Ve----ee. Vee. That’s my name. Vee Fishsprout. Yes. No, that’s such a weird name… but it’s mine!” she laughed, awkwardly.
 
He chuckled at her nervousness. He took her hand and shook it. "Uhdalof. Allow me to see you to the city. You can tell me a little more about these adventures of yours on the way."

He returned his sword to it's sheath as he spoke, then he lead her out of the underbrush and back onto the road. He retrieved his bow and returned it to the quiver on his back. From there he walked with her to the city.
 
Well it seemed Verys was in luck, because not only was he not intending to rob her (not that she had anything *to* rob) but that he also seemed friendly enough. “Udalof, that’s an interesting name,” she noted as she looked around herself, fixing her cloak and settling the satchel back at her side. One of the bees landed on her cheek and she twisted her mouth to blow it off, returning to that steady smile as she followed him out of the underbrush.

Out of the underbrush, however, included passing the four dead bodies of the men who’d set upon her. Her smile fell, looking down at each man -- one of which she had to step over so that she could get back to the road -- with a peculiar mixture of regret and sadness. She was not used to seeing dead bodies… especially dead bodies of men who’d been living and interacting with her only moments before. It certainly seemed to dampen her spirits as they found the road once a more and began to walk along the path in the direction of Bhathairk.

“So,” she said, rather abruptly, into the silence that had fallen between them, tilting her head as she looked at him. “Ranger, outdoorsman, or mercenary? You, I mean. Which one? Your complexion means you must spend a lot of time outside. And you’re carrying survival supplies and from what I can see --” she sort of shifted her head back and forth to look at him more fully --”It’s all of the basics so you’re likely alone. So, ranger, outdoorsman, or mercenary? Ooooh please tell me you’re not going to sell me off into slavery again, that was such rubbish and you seem so nice…”
 
He actually started laughing when she said not to sell her as a slave. When he calmed down enough to reply he said, "no, I have no intention of doing that. I'm a mercenary. For someone who could deduct my profession just by looking at me, you seem easy to catch off guard. Honestly, how did you do that yet not notice four armed men following you?"

This woman was a funny one, she most certainly succeeded in amusing him just then. But why was she all the way out here? Even for runaways, they always went around with no less than a dagger to protect themselves, she had a book. A question he would be sure to ask her.
 
Verys heaved a relieved sigh when he laughed and reassured her that he had no intention of selling her off to slavery. “Oh thank goodness. Slavers are the worst. They were mean and didn't let me eat for days and-- and!" She sort of drew herself up, huffing in this angry way, though there was nothing at all intimidating about it, really. She was like a hundred pounds, soaking wet, and tiny, in this dainty way. “They ripped my book!”

The worst crime one could commit, it seemed, because she grabbed her satchel more protectively, patting it reassuringly.

“I knew the men were there… Saw their shadows on the ground. Plus they weren’t exactly quiet.” She settled her hands around the strap of her satchel, strolling along next to him with this happy little pep to her step. She certainly didn’t seem one to stay down or depressed for long. “I didn’t know they were going to try and rob me, though. Which is very silly of them, if they’d just asked I would have shared my pastries and told them I didn’t have any money. Oh!”

She peered up at him with her big emerald eyes. “Do you want a pastry? I have like three left… I think you deserve one for saving my books from harm.”
 
He sighed and shook his head. "No, I'm not one for pastries. But thank you. You really are into books though. Even some monks aren't as obsessed with reading as you appear to be. Why the fierce love of them?"
 
Verys shrugged in a ‘well, your loss’ sort of gesture when he turned down the pastries, digging through her satchel and shifting aside books and scrolls before finding a small packet near the bottom. It had obviously been smushed by a book, as evidenced by the large dent in the middle, but the redhead opened it up and pulled out a small sweetbread. Pulling pieces off of it, she popped a chunk in her mouth to chew on…

“Cawse ish magic,” she burst out, around her mouthful of food. Oh, that was rude. Manners, Verys, Dad would be so mad about her acting so unladylike. Swallowing, she cleared her mouth, gesturing with one hand. “Not like… pwish, pwhaoarh,” she moved her hands around like a stereotypical wizard, making a stern face. “Not that sort of magic, but… well…” She considered for a moment before turning to him.

“Here, let me show you. Tell me something about yourself -- something that no one else or not many people know. Like… your favorite color or a food you don’t like or… just something like that.”
 
"My favourite colour Huh? I suppose that would be green, like the mountain pines in spring. Following that would be q golden orange, like that of a coalbed." He says. "And let me guess, you will divine my secret personality through this unrelated knowledge."
 
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“Oh yes, I can immediately tell that your secret wish is to raise fluffy rabbits for a living and that your biggest fear is growing a giant wart on your nose with all these ugly hairs sticking out of it,” the redhead said with this perfectly serious air… that was ruined a second later by her giggle. “No no no --” she waved one hand as if to brush that all aside. “Nothing like that. Here, let me show you!”

She dug in the satchel at her side, very nearly toppling over several times because the bag had to be nearly as heavy as she was and she was neither very graceful nor inordinately balanced, before pulling out a newish-looking leather-bound book and a battered writing nib. Flipping the book open, she thumbed past several pages of impeccably neat hand-writing to find the first blank page. Sticking the nib onto the tip of her tongue to wet it, she carefully balanced the book on one arm as she wrote with the other --

Today I met Udalof. He has kind eyes and his favorite color is the color of mountain pines at springtime.

“Now imagine -- We both die right now, this very second,” the redhead said with this effervescent enthusiasm. “How many other people in the world know this? Maybe, it goes away as soon as you die. Gone with you. Poof! Dust. Nothing. Like it never existed. But -- but!” She held the book up so he could see the writing on the page, this excitement bright in her emerald eyes.

“It’s here now. Right here! And maybe someone a hundred years from now picks my journal up and they could never have known you or known anything about you -- but now they know your favorite color. It’s never lost!” She heaved a sigh and hugged the book to her chest, this dreamy look on her face.

“That’s the magic of books. Tiny strands of knowledge tethered to existence by paper and ink, passed between hands that maybe are even hundreds of years -- thousands! -- apart... There’s no other magic like it.”
 
"Memories. I think that I can see what you're saying. I doubt I'll entirely understand it, but I can see your logic. And no, you were very off with your predictions. My biggest fear is loosing sight of my humanity, and my secret wish isn't all that secret, it's to earn enough to buy a small cottage in the backcountry and live out the rest of my days in peace and tranquility."
 
The redhead hugged her journal to her chest a bit tighter, running her fingers along the edges of the bindings in this subconscious gesture of familiarity. Turning her eyes to him, she tilted her head curiously, strands of scarlet bouncing around her freckled-scattered cheeks as she regarded him. He spoke about not wanting to lose his humanity -- interesting, considering that from what she could see he was completely human. And his not-so-secret wish...

“No… family? No husband or wife, no kids? Just you out all by yourself?” she questioned, her voice soft. “That may be peaceful and tranquil… but it also sounds awful lonely. Why is that your wish?”
 
"It's my wish because I've never done well with people. Anyone I team up with for extended periods of time either dies or hates my guts. So I'm better off alone. I try to help people but I also try to stay out of their lives."
 
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“Hm. Unless you have a really really annoying habit -- like, super annoying, eating with your mouth open or something like that -- I can’t imagine any reason I’d hate your guts. You risked your own life for someone you didn’t know, after all, and that's pretty awesome.” She hooked her hands behind her back, strolling along with this contented air. The road was wide and even, the sun was shining overhead, and her books were unharmed. Not even being almost-robbed seemed to have dampened her spirits.

“Sounds like, to me, that you just haven’t met the right people. There are plenty of people who find me very annoying. I don’t understand people, either. They say one thing when they mean something else and I wish everyone would just… write everything down, it’d be so much simpler. But!” She bounced on the balls of her feet, looking up at him with this look that was so full of optimism and determined energy, it was hard not to be at least a little infected by it… “I know that that just means I haven’t found my people. So… I wouldn’t give up. Not yet!”
 
"Perhaps. But still, I don't know if they'd be safe around me. The first time I killed someone, I was six years old, I threw them from a second story window. People tend to turn away from someone who was guilty of murder since they were six."
 
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Verys regarded him quietly for a moment, pursing her lips pensively at that. She could easily brush off what he’d said or laugh it off or whatever… but that wouldn’t help anyone. That certainly wouldn’t help reassure him when it was obvious it was important to him. Instead, she tilted her head slightly, her red hair falling over her shoulder as she did so. The whole time, despite the fact he towered over her, despite the fact that she quite obviously stood very little chance if he decided to act on any murderous inclinations, she didn’t seem the least bit scared or put-off.

“That’s pretty bad,” she replied in this even tone of voice. “Must have been a really horrible situation if that was the only course of action a six year old saw available.” She shrugged one shoulder. “I think it’d be a different story if you weren’t still bothered by it. A good person doesn’t forget the bad things they’ve done, but a bad person doesn’t bother remembering.”
 
"That's just it, it wasn't necessary. He was just a bully, nothing more. I wanted to put him on his butt and I went too far, I lost control. It wasn't a horrible or even unusual situation, it was something that most kids have to deal with and I killed him over it. No, that isn't something that a good person does. And what's worse is that I stopped losing sleep over it within a month. I remember, but I've stopped caring."
 
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