Fable - Ask Extreme Makeover: Forsaken Edition [Rumer}

Emryc

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Vel Anir - Undercity
The Bleak Bar

He saw it coming.

Didn't even have to know the other Forsaken all that well to recognize the body language of someone fixing to kill. Knew it like he knew his own reflection. To his credit, Emryc did not flinch. He barely even blinked. Even waited, hand poised on his fresh mug of ale, for it to happen.

Eyes shut to the fire, brow faintly knit at the ringing in his ear, jaw twitched at the sensation of blood splattering across the side of his face and neck. There came that line of granite again.

"Now, that's much better isn't it?"

He sat there in silence for several long moments, dripping viscera from his face.

"I just ..." Emryc opened his eyes, staring at the wall directly across from him in irritation, "bought this drink."

Galen was an Emryc-didn't-know-what that packed a mighty molten punch enough to make even him reconsider finding him in a bad mood. But despite the firefist straight to the face of what used to be the man sitting next to him, he remained unruffled even as Galen approached him, grinning ear to ear.

"Thought you liked the taste of blood," Galen replied, dropping a massive stone encrusted fist onto the half-orc's shoulder that sent a shudder through Emryc's bones, "isn't that what you do to people? Bleed them dry?"

"Not into my drink," Emryc refuted flatly, stormy eyes following the movement of the barkeep as he made quick work of cleaning up the mess sloshed across the countertop. The Qosta slowly picked up a napkin and began to wipe his face, and his neck, and-

"Leave it," said the barkeep with a grouchy gesture, "I'll getcha a fresh'un."

How very charitable, "Put it on his tab," Emryc nodded his head at Galen, inhaled deeply, and slowly exhaled his frustration. The night wasn't off to a good start and it was about to get a whole lot worse, he just didn't know it yet.

Rumer
 
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Rumer

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The woman who had unceremoniously yanked her mid-slumber from her cot had a face that seemed carved of stone and a heart just as cold and hard. Rumer had earned herself not one but two hard slaps that'd left one side of her face significantly more flushed than the other, and a small swollen cut on her corner of her mouth. She'd learned already not to ask questions, she'd simply forgotten amidst her fear and confusion. 'Where's Nathaira?' and 'Where are we going?' were simply questions that she had no right to ask, she had no right to ask anything at all..she had no right to speak.

The child didn't cry. Another hard lesson learned. She wanted to, and her throat ached with emotion that was namely the same fear and anxiety she felt and had been right to feel every single day since being discovered only months ago, and as the frigid woman led her hurriedly through the streets of the undercity, she doubted this day would be any different.

The child's gaze remained downcast as she shuffled along beside the handler, her legs aching as she struggled to keep up until she was gripped harder than necessary by the shoulder and steered into the Bleak Bar. The woman paused in the doorway and seemed to scan the room for a moment before fixing her attention on the blood spattered orc. She leaned, and spoke the first words Rumer had heard her say. "You will go to that one.." the woman whispered by the child's mangled ear as she pointed to the man, her voice of a characteristic accuracy to her general manner that caused a shudder to dance across the child's back. "Give him this." she added with a sneer, and handed her a scroll.

Rumer looked down at the rolled parchment in her hand for a moment before lifting her face toward the woman anxiously. She'd been about to make the mistake of asking a question which the woman had obviously anticipated, and before a single syllable was uttered she was shoved so hard that she fell flat on the sticky wood floor and skidded another foot closer to the man she'd been charged with approaching.

She could feel eyes on her, a few guffaws here and there and even a grunt from an ogre-like creature about her looking like 'supper'. She looked back over her shoulder, but the woman was gone, and so she pulled herself to her feet and avoided the several gazes that were trained on her and drew in a deep breath before shuffling toward the half orc..

A quiet huff escaped her as she stood by the table, and with her nervous gaze still downcast and face hidden mostly by her hood, she lifted the scroll mutely and held it out in a tremulous hand toward Emryc. She swallowed, lifting her eyes only enough to see the remainder of whomever had made the mistake of sitting next to the man before she'd arrived, dearly hoping that she wouldn't meet the same fate.
 
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Emryc

Tooth & Nail
Dreadlords
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The sudden appearance of a handler with a small figure at the bar entrance caught Emryc's attention for only a moment. A silent glance back over his shoulder, following the gaze of Galen who was keenly watching the curiosity unfold, before -

"Eya," said the barkeep, setting a fresh drink on the bar infront of him, "don' say I never did a thing for ye."

Emryc turned back, contemplating the likelihood that Maj, the barkeep, had gotten laid prior to his shift. Always in a cheery mood after, he was, if cheery could pass for the fewer less lines of grimace on his face. He took his drink without a word and gulped down a third of it to cleanse the bitter taste of disgust from his palate.

An unusual gaze of fuchsia followed Ru's progress up to the bar. Galen narrowed his eyes at the girl, a cutting sort of mirth flickering about behind his pupils. When Emryc didn't notice her (or more likely ignored her) he gave the half-orc a rough jab to his shoulder, "Didn't know you were into cradle-breaking, Em."

The Forsaken's posture stiffened slightly, jawline taking on a strain of verte granite as he eyed Galen before shifting to look down at Ru. Nat's little pet. He prickled, eyes of a roiling storm tracing her watery gaze down to the outstretched, trembling hand and the scroll it held. Not likely from Nat, not likely from Qosta. Then what...

A large, grass-hued hand reached out to firmly grip the girl around the wrist, stilling the visual quiver to the tranquility of stone. He took the scroll from her with his other hand and unrolled it. It wasn't a long message, and it wasn't from Qosta judging by the handwriting, but another unidentified handler. Odd ... Emryc's orders were nigh strictly relegated from the Qosta patriarch so he had to wonder if the man even knew about this.

"Which Handler gave you this?" his grip around her wrist had not loosened, not even a hair.
 
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Rumer

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Panic immediately dominated the child's expression as her wrist was grabbed, her little heart thundering hard against her ribs as though it were trying to escape and run for it's life.

"I.." Rumer started to answer and realised she didn't know the answer to his question. She glanced over her shoulder toward the door of the tavern in search of the woman who'd brought her here however there was no sign of her. She was hyperventilating now.

"I don't know.. A.. A woman.. She didn't tell me her name, I've never seen her before." she explained feverishly with a feeble attempt at pulling her wrist from his iron grip. Rumer looked between the two with a look of utter terror that was only amplified as once more she set her timid gaze upon the bloody mess of a man. Her stomach turned over at once, her cheeks bulging slightly and she tried her very best to push down the rapidly rising wave of nausea as the contents of her stomach threatened to make a dramatic reappearance.

"Please I don't know.." she pulled again, this time with a whimpered growl in frustration and expelled a puff of air that caused her bangs to flutter around her forehead and settle back into even more of an unruly mess than they had already been.
 
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Emryc

Tooth & Nail
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"Be still," Emryc rumbled back to her, a smooth, deep voice that needn't speak loudly to be heard so close. The man ignored her terror and her struggle to be free, allowing her the opportunity to squawk as he stowed away the scroll and downed the rest of his drink.

The note hadn't contained the key trigger words required to command Emryc, but it had those of the other Forsaken. Ones he also knew but didn't feel as innately compelled to follow as, say, Nathaira would. Pa Qosta had trained him specially because he was, for all intents and purposes, different from his fellow Forsaken. Emryc just didn't know why. As highly suspect mission order was, he wasn't one to question the Handlers. None of them were, really.

The flagon hit the bar with a hollow clatter and the Forsaken stood from his seat, tugging the tiny girl along with him, "Come."

Only once they were outside the bar and out of linesight of those inside did he release her arm. The man knew the breadth of his strength and while he held her firmly enough to keep her from skittering off, he'd leave no mark. This was Nat's pet and he respected the woman enough to respect the child.

"Stay with me," he said as he walked, curiously quiet for a man his size, "we have an assignment."

They were off to the stables of the undercity to collect his horse and supplies.
 
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Rumer

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And just like that, she was still. She was too afraid to be anything other than what he commanded her to be. Her little breaths puffed from her nose in short, sharp bursts and her fingers curled into little fists in attempt to stop her hands from shaking. Slowly, oh so slowly, her eyes lifted to look over his face from underneath her hood as he was busy reading..

As the empty flagon was slammed against wood, Rumer visibly jumped and she made a soft, mousy meep of a sound as she was pulled along side the orc, feet scurrying as quickly as she could whilst trying not to trip over herself, or him. With her arm released, she pulled it against her chest protectively out of fear he'd grab it again if she let it hang loose by her side...

An assignment? With him?..

She paled. It'd taken her time to get used to Nathaira, the woman's ways had been cruel at times but she knew there were worse, and she knew now that the woman cared about her enough to try not to hurt her, or at least not to enjoy it when she had to. She wanted to know why. What was the assignment and what was she needed for? Did Nathaira know she was leaving? When would she be back?..

No questions.. She reminded herself with a quick mental jab and uttered a quiet and obedient "Hm yessir.." instead as she followed quickly along side him.
 
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Emryc

Tooth & Nail
Dreadlords
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Emryc said nothing else for the duration of their short jaunt to the stables, but he did often check to ensure she was still following at his heel. Children were ... a foreign idea to the man. As a Forsaken he held no delusion that he would father any offspring, nor did he have any desire to bring another generation into this hell of his. The very fact that Rumer was here, as his charge and momentary pupil, incensed the half orc into a boiling rage.

One that brewed ominously beneath a stoic surface of carved emerald.

His horse was a rangy steed of dull, dark brown color. One that had clearly seen far too much violence and not nearly enough pasture. Such was the life of an creature of burden in the undercity, though his horse looked better off than most. "Wait here," he indicated a spot in the cobbled hall across from where the beast was stalled. He tacked it up with practiced movements and disappeared into a room down the aisle, returning with saddle bags filled with supplies and rations that he then attached to the saddle rigging.

Leading the horse out into the aisle, Emryc gestured to the girl to follow and lead them both the stable hall, back out into the open expanse of the undercity chasm. They walked on foot a ways from the heart of the undercity, along the road that Rumer would recognize lead to the uppercity outskirts of Vel Anir. When finally the first lancing rays of moonlight could be seen he brought the horse to a stand and turned to the girl.

Emryc didn't bother to ask if she knew how to ride or if she was afraid. Down here you didn't get such luxuries of consideration. His large hands reached for her waist and plucked her off the ground as if she were no more than a sack of potatoes. Perhaps not even that much. He placed her seated cross-wise on the horse's withers infront of the saddle then moved to mount up behind her. His arms looping around her waist, he took up the reins and nudged the horse forward into a clipped walk.

No need to hurry, the night was quite young and they had a day's journey at least ahead of them. It was likely to be boring for the girl - Emryc wasn't much for talking.
 
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