Monstertown

Monstertown

Postby Urukhin » Wed Aug 27, 2014 12:54 am

It's early when a knocking comes on the door of Mercy's room; the sky is still lightening, the sun yet to fully clear the mountains, and a chill autumnal mist still wreaths Myrken Wood's valleys and lowlands. In the hallway the half-orc waits a moment, listening, before applying his knuckles to the door again.

"Rise an' shine, ladyship." His voice is a gruff rumble, dull and thick with sleep. "Got plenty o' walkin' t'do."

He's dressed, or at least halfway there; leggings, boots, padded gambeson with patches of mail at neck and armpits. Might as well make sure the healer's up and about before he puts on the rest, rather than sitting around waiting for her.

"I'll meet y'downstairs. We'll get some breakfast 'fore settin' out."

Message delivered, he stumps back along the hallway to his own room.
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Re: Monstertown

Postby girl » Wed Aug 27, 2014 2:01 am

Early. The sound of an insistent set of knuckles on her door sets the physician on high alert, adrenaline pumping to roust her from sleep better than any amount of caffeine could. She sits bolt upright out of bed, hair streaming behind her like banners of pure and unadulterated panic. It takes a full two heaving breaths before she recognizes that the voice is not some demonic emissary of the One True God sent to punish her for her interloper's ways, but the low and gravelly sounds common to Murrukh, her friend. Beneath her chemise, shoulders sag with the revelation, and shuffling sounds secondary to starting one's day issue from behind the closed door.

"I'll be right down, Murrukh!" She chirrups from behind the door, far more chipper than anyone at this hour has a right to be.

Mercy had been prepared for this morning--awaiting its arrival with bated breath. Since the physician had set foot on Myrken Wood's soil the only exploring she'd done was in the realm of literature and religion; she'd been exploring with her mind, but not her feet. Dressing came at a much quicker pace, owing to the fact that she was not wearing fifteen layers, and there were no endless rows of buttons leading to feminine propriety. She'd left the full skirts behind in favor of more masculine clothing in rich browns and greens, as they are much more appropriate for adventuring (or so she'd read). A tunic, green and floorlength, and slit up the sides so as to appear fairly dress-like but with ease of movement, has been laced over a cream-colored chemise most probably meant for sleeping and a pair of espresso-colored trousers that she'd snitched from her mentor many, many moons ago. An undyed, roughly knitted scarf has been wound behind her neck and crossed over her chest and tied in the back as an added measure of warmth. Boots and pack at the ready, the physician properly thunders down the stairs into the common room, uncaring whether or not her particular cacophony has roused any of the other guests.
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Re: Monstertown

Postby Urukhin » Wed Aug 27, 2014 2:25 am

It turns out that the healer reaches the common room first, a span of minutes passing before a heavy tread from overhead announces the halfbreed's approach. What descends the stairs is a different figure entirely from the brutish tavern guard, stout jerkin and leggings exchanged for something altogether more intimidating. Armour, overlapping plates of green-brown chitin; scratches and abrasions bearing witness to countless fights, the uneven ridges and irregular edges lending him an oddly insectile aspect. He looms, a bulkier-seeming figure than before, broad-shouldered and heavy-limbed, the helm beneath one arm an alien, bulbous-eyed mask. At his belt hangs a heavy-bladed sword, its sheath bound about with hide and braided leather, and over one shoulder he carries a light travelling pack.

On reaching the bottom of the stairs he glances about until he sights Mercy, and a quick head-to-toe inspection of her garb and gear earns a nod of approval. The brute's features are a little wearier than usual, a little greyer, the night before not having been a particularly sober one.

"Y'look ready." Grunted praise, and without further comment he dumps his pack by the counter and heads to lean through the kitchen door. "Eggs. Meat. Big fuckin' plate o' fried stuff." A hearty breakfast, then, and the order made he glances back to the healer.

"Eaten a'ready?"
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Re: Monstertown

Postby girl » Sat Aug 30, 2014 1:40 pm

"I am ready! Good morning! I was waiting for you!" She crows at Murrukh, beaming bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. In fact, she might be the veritable physical embodiment of sunshine, despite the ungodly early hour at which she is availing him with her fulgent personality. He questions the state of her stomach, and a hand drops to press flat against it, gaze following. She shakes her head in response, and then to the retreating barmaid she calls out, "Might I have some biscuits, please? And jam. And also tea, please."

Hands lock behind her back, and she rocks onto her tiptoes, bending forward at the waist to better (and more creepily) examine her exploratory compatriot. Dark eyes take in the obvious change in outfitting, lips pressed tightly together, pinned between the even rows of her teeth. After a moment's obvious leering, she speaks again, head cocking to the side as her gaze travels upwards to find his ashen face.

'You look very well prepared. Am I underdressed?" She looks down at her scarf and the muslin and homespun that make up her Adventuring raiment, recognizing with mild distress (tempered by the excitement of their outing) that these articles of clothing are far less fortified than the half-orc's getup. She seats herself at the nearest table with little fanfare, one leg tucking beneath her rear end, the other foot propped up on the rung of her chair, a position that attests to her comfort in Murrukh's presence.
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Re: Monstertown

Postby Urukhin » Thu Sep 04, 2014 2:27 pm

"If y'were underdressed I'd say."

A brusque answer, the halfbreed's capacity for good humour somewhat limited at such an hour, and in such a condition. All the answer he offers for the moment, and it's only when a mug of ale and another of sweet tea have been consumed that he begins to brighten. The conversation finally resumes once he's had a chance to make a start on his breakfast, steadily shovelling forkfuls of fried meat and egg into his mouth.

"You're lookin' a'right. Practical. No point you havin' anythin' heavier. 'S what I'm there for." He raps a knuckle against his chitinous breastplate. "You get close 'nough to anythin' that what you're wearin' makes a diff'rence, that means we've fucked up. Any trouble, my job's t'get in th'way. Got it?"

---


"...stand aside, oaf, I'll skewer this varlet m'self, he says, an' next moment he was tryin' t'push his guts back in."

It's been a steady hike from the tavern, a journey that's taken them through Myrkentown's bustling streets and out into the countryside beyond. Along the North Passage Down, the wheatfields to either side harvested a month since, alternating between stalk-bristled earth and blackened char where the stubble has been burned off. Carts and wagons rattle past the pair, their drivers casting sidelong looks for the brute in his strange armour and the young woman at his side. As the sun reaches its zenith the half-orc leads them off the main road, turning onto a rutted track that points them in the direction of the looming Sikasoons. A mile or two ahead of them, though, the East Weald spreads like a rumpled blanket up into the rugged foothills.

For much of the journey thus far Murrukh recounted tales of adventure and endeavour, all sharing a common theme of what happens when people don't listen to him. Apparently the most frequent result is a grisly and unpleasant demise, closely followed by an entirely avoidable maiming. A lesson of sorts, even as they've paused at the roadside for food and a brief rest.

"So," Preface to a question now tediously familiar to the healer. "when I say get b'hind me, you...?"
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Re: Monstertown

Postby girl » Wed Sep 10, 2014 12:52 pm

Murrukh's earlier poor mood is mollified by food and libations, and the trip begins without a hitch, easy banter serving as the backdrop for their marching. His stories are, for the most part, quite gory--but she imagines he's toning down the bawdiness for her innocent ears, an idea that is both amusing and irksome.

Mercy is quite possibly the most annoying traveling partner ever. It's lucky that the vegetation near the road is mostly clipped back, as any strange bit of flora is cause for pause and intense examination. Some of the leafy greens are pressed between the pages of her notebook, while others are discarded as previous discoveries.

His tales of misfortune at the hands of disobedience do not fall upon deaf ears; the physician is an excellent student. And when he questions her once again, her physical response is of frustrated resignation. She'd been holding a lump of cheese, and that hand drops to her side as she sighs forcefully. She rolls her eyes and lolls her head to the side as she responds, but she does respond in the fashion he desires. Mercy's voice is bored and sing-song as she intones, "Get behind you."

She whips the lump of cheese at her armored companion's side.

After cackling at her good cheese-throwing show, she pipes up again, while dropping into an easy, crosslegged position in the shaggy grass. "How much longer, again? Are we almost there?" The physician is growing tired of walking, especially considering the explorations she was planning on doing once they arrived at their destination. Her voice, low and sweet, rings out again, "Also, a thing I was thinking--don't you imagine you showing up in full armor with weapons and the like will...instantly make you a threat?"
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Re: Monstertown

Postby Urukhin » Tue Sep 16, 2014 11:24 pm

The halfbreed endures the healer's botanical delays with a gradually-diminishing patience; at first amused, then merely tolerant, eventually sighing heavily with each pause to inspect leaves or flowers. He makes up for it by lengthening his stride when they get moving again, as if hoping to move them past any interesting plantlife too fast for Mercy to notice.

So there's a grin at her evident weariness for the subject of listening to him, absently taking up the thrown piece of cheese and blowing on it before popping it into his mouth. Still good.

"Good, you're learnin'."

She peppers him with questions to follow, and he turns to squint towards the woods, and the distant threads of smoke rising above the trees.

"Hour or so, I reckon, if there ain't any more stops." A look for the healer then, to be sure she understands. Her next question is... quite a good one, actually, and he gives it a bit of thought before replying.

"Shouldn't reckon so. I ain't an army, an' I ain't comin' in with burnin' torches an' such. Pretty clear I'm jus' there t'keep you safe, I'd say." He takes another mouthful of bread, chewing slowly before washing it down with a sip from the waterskin.

"There's prob'ly plenty o' things more threatenin' than me in there."
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Re: Monstertown

Postby Rance » Wed Sep 17, 2014 3:39 pm

...and he turns to squint towards the woods, and the distant threads of smoke rising above the trees.

Off in the distance well behind the half-orc and the physician, a crown of fog wreathed a circular blemish in the earth. As if a giant, divine hand had simply scooped a handful of soil out of the ground a thousand years ago, there was but a hole, a pit, its edges rimmed with sprawling bursts of grass and severed roots. A smattering of abandoned buildings and steads pockmarked the earth surrounding the vaporous crater. The eyes of their windows were black, speaking of inner silence. Austere. Militant.

No inhabitants. A half-formed world that had never been given the spark of life.

Golben.

And like the tapering tail of a snake or the scattered stones of a stepping-path, some of those buildings reached, a winding line, toward the black crest of the East Weald. Where smoke crawled out of the canopy of the woods, there were evinced the occasional hints of a guarded existence: small huts worked precariously into the trees, tents and lean-tos of tattered canvas that jutted out of the earth like fabric blisters, makeshift farmsteads where overgrown plants bristled from of the tall grasses.

Barely perceptible, the brush beneath the two compatriots had been stamped down, the crushed spines of weeds paying homage toward the distant cluster of buildings, farms, and forest-veiled abodes.

A path.
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Re: Monstertown

Postby girl » Mon Sep 22, 2014 2:32 am

“Repetition is the key to understanding, isn't it?” She doesn't know if she quite agrees with that statement, but it fit the Murrukh's teaching style, and the simpleness of the concept the brute was trying to push onto her.

The rest of their repast progresses with idle chatter, mostly banter from the physician regarding the interesting specimens that she'd collected during their walk. Once she's finished with the simple lunch they'd partaken in, hands move to dust on the sides of her special adventurer's outfit, and she pushes to her booted feet. Those feet do not stay rooted for long, and the girl takes to casual pacing, an effort to alleviate her growing anxiety to be on the move.

She turns to regard her surroundings, one hand lifted to shield her eyes from the ferocity of the afternoon sun, survey progressing from east to west until she stops, dead in her pivoting tracks. Her free hand, the one not being employed to protect those dark eyes from downward slanting rays, plucks at the half-orc still on the ground, rasping at his shoulder in her excitement.

“A path, a path, a path,” The word is repeated with reverence, excitement, and a steady increase in volume, with the girl staring down that weed-and-stone paved course, unblinking.
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Re: Monstertown

Postby Urukhin » Tue Sep 30, 2014 8:10 am

From their vantage point the Pit is a wide and shallow bite out of the horizon, with the far edge of the pit a hazy line against the sky.

The halfbreed's an attentive enough student, for all that he maintains a facade of casual disinterest. He still listens, though, peering at this leaf or that flower, noting the difference between one plant and the other, and the medicinal uses to which they might be applied.

As she plucks at his shoulder he's busy stowing the last of the meal - finishing a heel of bread, tidying up a rind of cheese or the core of an apple - before he too clambers to his feet to squint in the direction indicated, chewing on the remnants of their picnic.

"Aye, could be." An eventual nod and a grin, deliberately reluctant to accept that the young woman might be right about it. "'S goin' th'same way as us, at least."

A shrug, and the brute hefts his pack to his shoulder, extending a gauntleted hand to invite his charge to take the lead. "You get th'honour, since y'saw it first."

---

The better part of an hour later and they are under the trees, the branches overhead a fiery canopy of red and orange and gold, the ground underfoot damp and springy with the fallen leaves of autumns past. The path can still be faintly discerned on the forest floor between the boles of oak and chestnut and beech, though it grows more distinct the further they walk.

Murrukh keeps closer to Mercy now, less insistent on them making good time towards their destination; they've reached the point where caution is warranted, lest they blunder into something unfortunate.

"Can't be far now."
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Re: Monstertown

Postby Rance » Wed Oct 01, 2014 4:30 am

As they grew nearer, could the half-orc and the physician feel them? Perhaps, perhaps--

Eyes of every color and size peered out at them from behind the ineffective cover of sagging, dew-sodden leaves. Pupils flicked left and right, following the pair as they entered beneath the canopy of the East Weald. Occasionally a tree would rustle or a fern would dance and shudder, brushed by invisible limbs and invisible hands invisibly hidden. Yet, for all the life they did not see, the truth had been written in the still-smoldering cooking-fires, in the flattened-down paths crushed by great heels and diligent feet, in the sharp odor of burnt meats and body-warmth: here, amid tents, shanties, and shacks, beings existed, thrived, and called this place -- dilapidated, half-built, hastily-constructed -- home.

Silence hung over it all like a veil. Artificial. Forced. Not the cool, natural quiet of a woodscape, but the intentional lack of noise that accompanies a warning, an intrusion.

"If'n ye woont soom place safe t'be, half-man," rumbled an earthy voice from behind them, "ye have t'know this ain't noo toon fer foolk like her."

A great foot crushed down into the corpses that autumn had shed. A grand figure extracted itself form the treeline and stared, with a single bison-sized eye, upon them. The body, reaching nearly thirty hands high, might have been mistaken for a statue: the flesh and belly were washed with gray and the malignant grin upon those lips had been chiseled out of granite. A tattered loin-cloth flapped against thighs as thick as oak-trunks.

"She's goot a toon all her own she can goo back t'," the sentinel rattled.

The cyclops' stare rolled wetly in his skull, found Murrukh, but yet seemed to leer at the both.
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Re: Monstertown

Postby girl » Sun Oct 12, 2014 3:02 am

Fear? It surfaces sharply, lurking behind those wide and dark eyes, spreading like ice through her veins. The desire to take a half-step towards Murrukh and lessen the distance between them is palpable, but as yet she resists, standing her stead in the hopes of appearing less weak. The cyclopean gentleman pushes from the cover of the trees; her birdheart hammers intimately against the cage of her ribs. She resists the temptation to whirl or, better, to flee and instead pivots crisply on one heel at the shake and clatter that announces the cyclops behind them.

Though the one-eyed giant does not address her directly, the physician takes it upon herself to reply to his concerns. She clears her throat, and takes one step forward, just in case he didn't notice her standing there, so close to the ground.

“I apologize for the intrusion—I am new to this region,” she begins, pausing only to gesticulate to the area around her with one hand, fingers splayed wide, empty palm pointed to the sky. “But I had heard that there was another local settlement, and I was curious as to what sort of doctoring care you might have set up, here,” she calls out her words in a low-toned and placid voice, completely devoid of any of the anxiety that has dilated her pupils.

Her words are punctuated with a smile, one that is known for putting many other bipeds at ease.

“I work at the Rememdium, and as yet have seen any of the denizens of this region in my practice.”
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Re: Monstertown

Postby Urukhin » Tue Oct 14, 2014 8:16 am

They're watched, of course. Their progress observed, no doubt reported back to others. They pass remnants and traces, some fresher than others, and the brute is alert - still matching the healer's pace, but his head turns as they walk, watching, listening, squinting into the shadowed opening of each lean-to or shelter for a glimpse of any occupants therein. Deserted, though. Empty, abandoned - but recently.

Behind them. Behind them.

The halfbreed turns smartly as that deep voice hails them, a gauntleted hand dropping to the hilt of his blade in readiness; yellow eyes narrow at that crackle of twigs and leaf-litter, then widen as the voice's owner steps into the open, brows lifting as his gaze tracks up, and up. A guttural oath rolls in his throat, somewhere between startlement and awe, and he steps to place himself at an angle between the cyclops and the healer - not interposing, but ready to do so if need be.

He might've made some further reply to that challenge, that warning, except Mercy finds her voice; offers an introduction, and the brute can only shrug and grin, little more he might usefully add to that explanation. He turns to glance back to Mercy, offering what he hopes is a reassuring wink, before his attention returns to the one-eyed sentinel and he tilts his head to indicate the young woman.

"'S Miss Mercy y'want t'be talkin' to. I'm jus' along t'keep her safe."
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Re: Monstertown

Postby Rance » Thu Oct 16, 2014 4:23 pm

As Mercy spoke, the round-bellied tower of a brute lumbered forward, pressing a bare, gray heel into the underbrush. His spine blotted out the morning sun. That single eye flared as it examined her, a lack of depth-perception accounted for by an almost birdlike bounce of his head: left, right, chin up, chin down, trying to see all of them, his gritted teeth all the while grinding like rough stones in his maw.

"And woot are ye, creamskin," he rattled at Mercy, the sprawling mass of his fingers scraping across the colorless barrel of his abdomen. "Woot are ye, some fancy-arse smart-button thinkin' ye goot somethin' t' shoo us? Doon't take well t' types of yer stature, Skirts. Choo ye up. Spit'n ye oot. Ain't seen us 'cause ya din't like us."

Roll of a purplish tongue. Saliva foam clicked between his teeth. He spat on the earth. The ferns shuddered like nervous children as the cyclops strode forward, snapping his neck around to peer down toward Murrukh.

"And you," he drawled. "Y'some creamskin-lover? She seen wat'cha offerin' b'low the buckle, may-bay give'er soom'a yer stink?" A fist the size of a saddlebag tightened so fiercely at the hip that the skin itself creaked and moaned against the strain of work-hardened musculature.

And meanwhile--

A whisper from the dark brush not so far away from Mercy Tirel. In the thorny shade, a tiny shadow was visible, somehow squeezed amid the branches of a conifer as if the being feared some evidence of flesh might betray it in the misty daylight.

"It-...It'll be a bad mess," chirped a hoarse, boyish voice. "It'll b-...be a grand mess, the grandest mess indeed, if you stay. I wouldn't let him h-...hurt you. You have got a flower-blossom smell, a good-blossom smell.

"Hide with me, pretty ladies. I won't harm your skin."
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Re: Monstertown

Postby girl » Mon Oct 20, 2014 2:42 am

“You don't know what I like and what I don't like. And furthermore, I am a doctor and I've come to attend your sick if you've got any,” the physician bristles. There is a clear and obvious threat, there, and she is ignoring it in the face of lofty ideals that, for all their good intentions, so rarely have a place in the real world. He spits in her direction and she dares not recoil; instead, the physician lifts her chin another few degrees, jaw setting with the clench in her teeth.

The attention and conversation shift towards Murrukh and into territories that bygones had historically dictated would prove ruinous—at least for one of them. Overt and lascivious sexual tones drip from the gnashing maw of the cyclops, and the rigidity that had pervaded her jaw extends to her spine, her limbs. She'd hoped for some sense of diplomacy, but had sorely misjudged the tensions that run between those who inhabit Myrken and the outsiders who make this region their home.

In a bid for damage control, one hand extends to press fingers against the half-orc's side. Though there is no purchase of flesh upon flesh, she contents herself with the hope that the pressure will be enough to prevent the brightest and hottest bits of Murrukh's indignation. It is at that moment, as hand collides with chitin that the voice at her side surfaces, lost beneath the boom and hateful crackle coming from the cyclopean emissary. Her gaze jerks to the side, she narrowing her eyes in a squint and stooping a little as if changing her level might better help her discern the person behind the words.

“How do I know you mean me no ill will?” The physician offers her question in a breathy rush, gaze turning back to the scene unfolding before her with increasing worry. Her hopes for the situation had already been dashed, and the young woman has found that every moment spent in and around Myrken has been adding to her level of wariness.

Her gaze turns once again in obvious and earnest search towards that shadowy form.
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