Private Tales New Places, New Faces

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer

Raf

The Mimic
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Character Biography
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Savannah

Raf's favorite part about being a Dreadlord, well an Initiate, was getting to go on missions.

A year ago he had abhorred them, tried to avoid and shirk them as much as he possibly could. It had never worked of course, the Proctors would nab him and send him somewhere regardless of what he desired. It had been horrid then, and part of what had made him become so listless. He'd been forced to disassociate, pullaway, become a shell of a person.

Now though? Now things were different, most of the time anyway.

Missions were still dangerous, deadly, but not because they were hunting runaways or slaughtering bands of innocent elves. No. Now they were actually doing other things. Sometimes fun, sometimes boring, othertimes...well somewhere in between. It broke up the monotony of the Academy, and more importantly it gave Raf time to be shirk his responsibilities.

Out on a mission he had only one duty.

No chores. No studies.

Nuthin'.

All he had to do out here was whatever the mission was, and more often than not it was something easy now. That was why he was sitting on top of the cart instead of riding alongside, his head leaning back against the heavy wood.

"Raf, pay attention. There could be enemies everywhere!"

"I doubt it, Jen." He called back to the other Initiate. "We're headed to a friendly city in a friendly place. It's all good, right. Greggory?"

Greggory was the driver. A guardsmen of some years. He was a surly fellow, and only answered with a grunt. The three of them had been tasked with delivering some papers to the city of Vel Petrov, taking a route through the Savannah to avoid the eastern mountains. An easy enough task really, and one that Raf was thoroughly enjoying so far.

Mostly because it had let him be as lazy as he'd wanted.
 
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In the distance, they'd begin to see several large towers rising from the ground and embedded among a sprawling metropolis. It was the large kingdom of Marakoosh. Smaller tribes, towns, and estates dot the landscape around the larger city. Some within view of the dreadlord party. Some further off into the distance and unseen. As they get closer they may see that many different styles of housing and architect make-up the city, varying street-by-street. Buildings in the city range from simple structures of earthen brick to sprawling domes with courtyards and pools, all with the same pale color in design, giving Marakoosh a bright appearance in the sunlight and a dull blue at dusk. Tall, clay colored walls surround and protect the entire city.

Beyond the city walls lie olive groves and corn fields. To the West lies the desert. To the north the trading ports. To the South and East, canyons before the forests.

As they approach Marakoosh, red banners fly along all the walls. Red flags are raised. The Color red is prominently displayed in public places, what people wear, and along private homes. And Neveah, cloaked in black, stumbles out from one of the pubs. Her mug held up to her face, blocking her view from any carts that might be crossing the street as she stumbles out.
 
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"RAF!"​

The word seemed to float over his consciousness.

It was surprisingly hard to pull himself from the edge of the world of dreams. He was still more inclined to just fall asleep than to actually try to focus on the world around him. It was just so much more pleasant, so much more relaxing.

The thwap of Greggory's horsewhip was enough to knock him out of it.

"HE-" The word died in his throat as Raf shot up and looked at what lay ahead of him. Lips almost immediately thinned, and he swallowed hard as he saw the city that lay ahead of them. "I...err.."[/color[

The words died on his tongue as they continued forward, the cart moving without anyone challenging them or stopping them.

He didn't say anything, didn't offer even a single sentence that might have been constructive as they passed into the city and moved directly towards Neveah.
 
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This was nice. No responsibility. She didn’t have to think about her sist-…

“Shit,” she mumbled into her pewter mug. Took another gulp. Wobbled on her feet and swayed in the street. The cowl of her cloak slipped off her head. With her back to the approaching cart, she glared up at the sun, golden eyes narrowing. As if she was personally offended by its shining brightness. Dark hair with red highlights shifted across her shoulders.

The mug tipped back up as she slurped it empty. Other people were getting out of the way of the street. Following the rules of the road and traffic. Neveah was concentrating too much on her drink and the sun to realize she was swaying about in traffic.
 
Raf half sat back in the cart as they continued on their way.

The other Initiate was riding alongside them as they passed deeper into the city. He wished he was still laying back, looking at the sky. The city around them was interesting, but...well not as interesting as might have been up there.

He wanted to relax, enjoy himself on this journey. Not tense up because someone might be sitting on a roof top with a crossbow.

This entire thing was a dra-

There was a sudden jerk as the cart suddenly came to a stop, both of the mounts pulling it letting out annoyed whickers as Greggory had to hard pull on their reins. Ref, who hadn't really been paying attention to what was going on in front of them, suddenly jerked forward and fell from his seat.

He came thonked against the wood, half splayed against the cart.

"OI!"​

Greggory yelled at the offender in the street.
 
"Wadthefuuuuuuuuu," Neveah spun around at the loud voice behind her. The stomping horses. She squinted, looking up. A huff had her hair blowing free from her face.

"I'mtryin ta walk 'here," she pointed down at the street. Around them. Her other arm waved the flagon she held, alcoholic beverage slopping out the sides and onto the street. She frowned as she noticed it. Saw her drink spill out.

"Welcometothecity orf Ma-Mara-Marakooshhhhh, now bugger off an'goround!" With a flourish of one arm, she gave a mock bow. Trying not to spill her beer even more.

She was unsuccessful.
 
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The cart suddenly kicked forward.

Without warning, without word, it shoved back into gear. The Anirians seemed fully and entirely intent of simply running the woman over. They did not care about who might have been standing in their way, who she was or what her title might have been.

They had a mission to deliver something, and it seemed the old guardsmen driver simply didn't give much of a shit.

"GREGG!"

The boy on top of the cart yelled out as he was thrown back, but he wasn't sitting at reins.

As the Cart barrelled forward, the horses practically stampeding towards Neveah a figure suddenly darted out from the side of the road. His arm swept around the young woman, wrapping around her belly and tugging her out of the way.

"WHATCH IT!" The shout echoed on the street as he still half carried Neveah with one arm. "Fucking Anirians."

He swore.
 
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She stumbled and her flagon of beer went flying. Boots kicked up dirt on the street. There were other surprised shouts as the barreling carts went by. Disapproval from Marakoosh citizens. Hard to say if the disapproval was at the carts or at the drunken woman's behavior.

Flagon free hands and still feeling off-kilter, her palms went around that which encircled her.

"Wha-WHO..are you," she sputtered through the long tufts of hair curtained over her face. "You're veby strong," she mused, fingers feeling the distinct outline of muscle.

Hells, she was tipsy as fuck.

"Drink down though," she frowned. The sun-soaked path quickly gobbling up the spilled liquied from her run over flagon in the street. And she didn't ask whoever this was to release her yet. Honestly, it felt like she was about to float away. And maybe that was best. Just to go up in the sky and never come back.
 
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"Da." He said in quick answer to the drunken mess that lay curled beneath his arm.

Kir could feel the press of fingers against his biceps, shaking his head. He'd managed to keep himself hidden from her for months, but the little fool couldn't help but literally walk into traffic after all of this. His chest rose in a heavy breath.

"I am." The Bodyguard agreed. "All the saving of damsels I save."

He told her with a grunt.

At this point he could at least try to keep himself hidden. Right now he just looked like a good Samaritan, one that had snatched her from disaster. "How bout I buy you another?"

Kir suggested, glancing around at some of the taverns.
 
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"Darmsels-ahaha-ha," she got herself under control. Only if he knew. If he knew she was not a damsel. She was one of the kingdom's best Gryph riders. Even against her parent's wishes.

She frowned, head shook slowly.

"Nerp-nope. I think if I had another, I woudnae be able to get herm. H-o-me." Then again what was home? It was a place she wasn't ready to go back to. Not yet. Not after seeing her sister like that.

She swallowed.

"S'okay mrystery mern. I can walk now." As soon as he let go she would definitely hit the ground.

“On second thought,” she’d announce. “Lesgettha’drink.”
 
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He was, of course, more than well aware of what Neveah could do. Her family had hired him more than two years ago, and he had done his work well. The Guard had shadowed her for that entire time, watching, ensuring she was safe.

Through training, drills, and even all those times that she had sneaked away. "Right."

Kir said with a shake of his head.

"Well, probably best to get you home then." There was a small temptation to drop her onto the ground. It would probably sober her up a bit, maybe even get her moving, but he doubted she'd be able to walk much.

So instead he simply turned, then turned again, and looked down at her. "Where is that?"

He asked with a lie before she suddenly cut in.

A loud sigh escaped him. How in the fuck did any of these royals survive. "Alright."

Kir said, rubbing his face.

"Back to the Bessie, I guess." The man said as he began to wander off towards the Queens Bess.
 
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"Who're yew again?" Neck craned as she tried to look up at him. Her hands found their way along his muscled arm. Gods he was tall. Must've saved a lot of damsels too. She thought about pointing out that she could walk but that seemed like too much work for the moment. Besides, it was kind of fun just dangling. Letting her long-hair tip forward, the red-streaks mixed within midnight strands swooshing around. It reminded her of playing on the swingset in the courtyard as a kid with her siblings. Letting her belly hang over the seat as they'd rocketship back and forth.

Her bright, golden eyes relaxed as they adjusted quickly to the sudden darker atmosphere of Bessie's.

Ha, Bessie.

A few of the regulars eyed her. Eyed them. A dwarf in the corner with a long-beard kept glancing her way as if he were trying to place her face.
 
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Kir didn't seem to even notice the girls weight, and there was good reason for that. He stood near two heads taller than her, his bulk more than two men put together. He glanced down at her only briefly as she asked him name. "Lok."

It wasn't really a creative cover name, but one that he had been told to use.

Kirov Elst was a bit on the nose, and the family had been afraid someone would be able to track down who he was if he'd actually used his real name. People from Neus weren't exactly...hard to pick out in a crowd like this. Kir didn't mind it much in truth.

A name was a name.

As they stepped into the bar Kir looked around. "I need a drink for myself and the lady."

He jiggled Neveah a bit in his grasp.

"And some food." Might as well try to sober the little Princess up a bit while he was here. If he brought her back to the Palace like this there would probably be words.
 
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"He-eey," she couldn't help the wide-smile spreading on her lips as his jiggling brushed her stomach and came awfully close to her..."THAT tickles!" She'd thwap at the arm that still grasped around her. Her toes were barely touching the ground. Her hip was wedged into his side.

"I'll take a whir-whi-whiskey. And a chair. And some bread."

A huff as her head hung again, looking at the dust-streaked and dirty floor of the tavern. Looking at Lok's boots. "You can call me Nev." Eh, she'd never been in line for the throne and wasn't the first borns either, so she was relying on her lesser known reputation to be able to get away with using her shortened name.

At least she didn't think she was in-line for the throne.

Her chest ached as she thought of her sister and she suddenly felt like crying.

"Lok, can you put me down now?" Her tone changed quickly.
 
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Nev. He wouldn't have thought that she would get that close, but then again that wasn't really any of his business to correct. He would have to tell the family about all of this of course, but he was pretty sure they wouldn't blame him.

He'd saved her from a clutch of Anirians after all. "Add some stew to that too."

Kir said to the Barmaid as he began to trudge over towards one of the tables.

He still carried her, ignoring the request she made of him for the time being. A few seconds passed before they finally reached one of the corner booths, Kir shifting her as though she were a tiny doll and setting her down on the surprisingly comfortable cushions.

"There ya are." The Werebear said, trying hard to make sure his accent didn't slip through. "Heard the stew here was grand."

That was an utter lie, but by chance he wasn't all that far off.
 
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The princess gave him a funny look as he shifted her into the corner booth. For a moment, her head lowled to the side, resting on his arm. She still couldn't reach his shoulder even sitting down. Eyes closed then opened as she realized she was taking a nap on a stranger.

Did saving her life mean he wasn't a stranger anymore?

And she had his name.

Head tipped back, warm golden eyes shifting to look at the ceiling. There were some strange stains up there. "Gods I miss her," she huffed and sniffled once. "She liked stew, too. Her favorite was autumn."
 
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He knew of course. He knew exactly who she was talking about.

Kir was good at his job, as much as some might not have wanted to admit it. In this land he was a foreigner, a threat to many, but he knew what he was doing. Briefly he glanced down at Neveah, feeling a string of sympathy.

"Who?" The giant of a man was hardly a therapist, but if talking about it helped her, he could at least offer an open ear.

Perhaps it would help her.

Perhaps it would see him earn a bit of extra coin. "Not that I'm prying."

Kir said as the Watitress wandered over to the table, placing two mugs of ale and a whisky in front of the two of them.
 
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Eyes shifted up to his own. Briefly studying that mop of dark hair of his. The beard. While the city was diverse, she couldn't help but think he wasn't from around here. Perhaps it was his height that gave him away. Her head leveled and she leaned forward, elbows propping up on the table as her fingers wrapped around the whiskey glass.

She took a sniff.

Saying it was her sister was too on the nose. The entire city - kingdom, was in mourning. Over the lost Princess. The lost would-be-ruler.

"My cousin," she lied and downed the whiskey in one, burning gulp. The official news was that she'd jumped. The pressure of future ruling was too much for her. But Neveah knew that couldn't be true. Out of all her siblings she and Alysea had been closest. Alysea would've told her if something was bothering her.

It just didn't...make sense.

"We were close." Head tipped forward, fingers cradling her temples as she closed her eyes. She didn't see but the dwarves in the corner were whispering and pointing in their direction. "She had the best laugh. And she was smart. She'd beat me at d'jark every time." A famous card game of the land.

Head tipped back to Lok, "You ever lost anyone?"
 
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"I'm sorry." He really was too.

Losing a member of the family, close or not, cut deeper than most would have liked to admit. The taking of a brother or sister was like...was like losing a part of oneself. The pain was deep, lingering. Something that most would have begged to be relieved of.

Kir could remember it well. "I have."

He said softly, glancing at the little Princess.

"It doesn't get easier." The words were hardly encouraging, but he wasn't going to lie to her. Not in a moment like this. "But it does fade, given enough time."

For a moment he seemed to stare into the distance, his lips thinning, and then the waitress came prancing up to them. Somehow the goddess of a woman managed to carry two cups of ale, a whisky, and two bowls of stew. Balancing them all like some sort of gymnast.

The plates and cups swept onto the table, landing directly infront of Kir and Neveah.
 
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He had.

He'd lost someone too. Her shoulders curled inward as she looked at the stew. Fingers stumbled to grasp the spoon. But she finally managed.

Shit. She was as wasted as the farmers after olive harvest. Dipping the spoon into the broth, she got a good potato chunk with some meat and carrot and brought it up to her mouth. With her other hand, she went for the bread and tore off a piece. Dipping it in the stew so it could soak up the juices.

"That's good," she finally muttered and eyed that second glass of whiskey. Maybe she shouldn't take it quite yet. "What brings you to the city?" She brought the soaked bread to her mouth and munched away, swallowing. It was easier to ask about him than talk about her sister.

At least for right now.
 
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Well that was an improvement. He had been pretty sure that he would have to end up shoving the stew down her throat. "Work."

Not a lie.

His father had often said that the best lies had a trickle of truth to them. The same man had also said that Allir fish was the ham of the sea, so not all of his idioms worked out, but still, it was good advice when it came to a thing like this.

"I'm a mercenary." Again, not entirely untrue. "I heard I might be able to find something around these parts."

A shrug rolled over his shoulders. "Never been this far south before through, it's been...interesting."
 
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His answer made sense. He was strong. So, so, so tall. And if she wasn't three-sheets to the wind she might've actually been scared first meeting him. But for some reason, maybe it's cause he saved her ass on the street, she wasn't scared of him. Or maybe it's cause she was so, so wasted.

"Well, the city has a lot to see. Good food. The surrounding tribes are usually big on hospitality too." Unless they were at war with each other which happened now and again.

She swallowed more stew.

"Just steer clear of the southern canyons and you should be fine." Eyeing that other cup of whiskey she shrugged and downed it. Might as well regret it later instead of now.
 
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Most people in the city had been friendly to him, so it wasn't too much of a shock when Neveah suggested the surrounding tribes were too. Though then again, most people tended to be nice to him.

It was a fools gambit to insult someone as large as him, at least in most places. "Oh?"

Kir watched as she downed another glass of whisky, wondering for a brief moment if he himself shouldn't have taken it first. A shake of his head pulled at him as he reached out and gently grabbed the mug of ale, downing it in one big gulp so Neveah couldn't get to it first.

Had to take one for the team.

"What's in the southern canyons?" He asked, actually not knowing. "Monsters?"

It was the standard answer back. Ice Trolls and Wurms, but he had no idea if this far south the same could be said.
 
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She ate some more bread and felt as though she were floating inches off the seat. Or her head was leaving her body. Shit how much had she had to drink again?

"I wish it was monsters," she laughed even though it wasn't funny. Probably better if you don't know. And pray you never see one. The Gryph tribes patrol the area though, so we're safe." She winked. She actually winked at him.

Hell, she was so drunk.

And she was a gryph patroller. She knew what was out there. And the situation was barely contained. Things were getting a lot more dangerous.

She squinted as if remembering something.

"Oh shite. I have patrol in a few hours. I have to go to the bathroom." She'd try to scooch out of the booth as her head spun.
 
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"I've never felt unsafe a moment in my life." The Giant of a man said with a shrug.

Kir raised an eyebrow for a moment, glancing at her. "Are you sure you're even going to make it there?"

He wasn't about to stop her, though he would obviously have to chase after her if she didn't come back quickly enough. That was sort of the cat and mouse game of being an unseen bodyguard. An ironic position for him really given his size.

Kirov had his ways though.

He was still curious about that other thing though. Most hadn't wanted to talk about it, and every time he brought it up they got the same expression as Neveah. It was...odd, and Kir didn't quite understand it.

These Southerners were an odd folk.
 
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