Michaela
Cleric
Posts: 26
Affinity: Ice
OoC Alias: Derick
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Post by Michaela on Jul 18, 2012 11:33:53 GMT -6
Pain...That was the first thing Michaela felt as she drifted out of slumber. Her head hurt so bad she thought her skull might be splitting...She opened her eyes and started when the world was still dark. What's going on? "Eh?" Michaela dimly heard a rough voice nearby, had she spoken aloud? "Ey! She's awake! She's awake!" The tone in which he said it was all wrong...it didn't sound relieved it sounded...*Smack* A hand, monstrous by the feel of it, struck her cheek, the force of the blow rotated Michaela's head. Her headache screamed and stars erupted in the darkness. Michaela faintly heard her own scream as she blacked out again.
"Tha' was a close one." The man backed away from the cleric tied over the horse. "A close one? She's a little girl!" That was the boss, he appeared around the front of the horse, his tatooed face grinning. "Honestly, Hugh, is there anything you're not afraid of?" A deep voice guffawed from the other side of the horse, that was Hugh the boss' other companion, Durk. Hugh rubbed his hand and glared darkly at the boss. "Not afraid, boss, just cautious..." The boss met his glare with a flat stare, and his hand strayed towards the sword on his back. Hugh changed the subject hurriedly, "geez my hand smarts, I ought have used my axe haft to knock 'er out." That only won a menacing glare from the boss. "Why's that? She was already unconscious when we found her, there was no reason to use your axe the first time." Hugh turned away with his head down, surrendering the fight. This journey through the countryside couldn't end soon enough for him.
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Post by Bryson Desmonia on Jul 19, 2012 22:59:22 GMT -6
Bryson, armor on, was intimidating as always. His red armor with its white trim glinted a bit in the sun, showing almost no signs of it's time in battle. His shield was strapped to his back, easily accessible should he need it, his lance held idly in his left hand, while his right stroked his beard. His traveling companion was a smaller man, wearing no armor in favor of what he claimed were highly fashionable clothing and a cloak, riding on top of what Bryson viewed as a large pony- nothing like the work horses he was used to seeing, or even the warhorses he used to dream of as a child. The ex-farmer was working for this man as a bodyguard as the man traveled from Bern to some city in Lycia; Bryson hadn't bothered to remember the name.
It had been almost a week of traveling, and already Bryson was missing that red-haired youth, Hedric. Hell, even his own father was better company than this man, with his "I'm so much better than you" attitude, treating Bryson like crap. At least the pay promised to be good, which Bryson intended to use as funds to purchase enough land to rebuild his farm. And, on top of all this...
"Bryan, do you hear something?" the man asked, getting Bryson's name wrong yet again, in his shrill voice. Bryson shrugged, enjoying the man's reaction to the heavy clunk his armor made as it came back down. "I swear to you! I heard something!"
It was probably tha last bits of yer conscience dyin', ya..., Bryson thought to himself, muttering obscenities under the sound of his boots thudding, the little horse's foot steps, the jingle of money, and... Voices. Gruff, loud, and bickering. This probably meant bandits; the last highwayman they met had been silent, especially after getting a lance to the chest. Then again, that was probably just Bryson's imagination and want for a fight... It could have easily been some drunken men arguing over something or other. "Aye, I hear somethin'. I wouldn't be worryin' too much 'bout it, mind ye. Nothin' I can't handle."
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Michaela
Cleric
Posts: 26
Affinity: Ice
OoC Alias: Derick
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Post by Michaela on Jul 20, 2012 0:04:29 GMT -6
Michaela roused again, the world was still dark, and pain was spreading through her right side as something continued to dig into it. She controlled her breathing, afraid of awakening whatever had stuck her before. Her head was still aching, but she could feel her arms and legs dangling, and her body rocking back and forth. She breathed in through her nose and smelled dirt, sweat, and a hint of manure. I won't just sit here blind...I have to do something... Michaela thrashed her body, the uneven force tilted her back, and she fell feet-first off of whatever she had been perched on...
*THUD* "Ah, what the?" The boss turned as something hit the ground behind them. Their little captive had fallen off of the horse, but she wasn't moving. "Hugh! Can't you do anything right?!" Hugh lowered his head meekly, then spun around, "Whaddya mean? I--oh." Hugh saw the prisoner on the ground as well, "guess I shoulda balanced her better..." although he was leading the horse, Hugh adjusted his course to veer slowly away from the boss, fearing a lash out, but the boss merely turned to the brute walking alongside the horse. "Durk. Get the prisoner and put her back on the horse." Durk was a massive fella, standing at well over six feet tall and padded with plenty of muscle. "'Eah, I go an' do tha' fo' ya." Durk was also missing most of his teeth.
Michaela held her breath as she heard heavy footsteps plodding towards her spot in the dirt. She closed her eyes without realizing the redundancy, focusing solely on her sense of hearing. Closer...closer... 'Gurk'...'Durp'...whatever his name was, was approaching from the direction his legs faced. As the footsteps stopped, Michaela coiled up and launched her legs out. "Guh..." The oaf groaned in pain, Michaela raised her bound hands behind her back and jabbed at the knot that held the cloth over her eyes. The knot held firm, but the cloth slipped and rose up to her forehead. Without checking her surroundings, she launched another kick at the man's groin.
The boss' mouth fell open as Durk fell to his knees. His temper overtook whatever plans he had before. "First man to hold her down can kill her or have a bit of fun. Take your pick!" The boss smiled and leered at his victim, he knew what the pansy Hugh would pick, but the boss wouldn't mind a little fun himself.
Michaela's mouth formed a small 'o' as the boss ordered about his thuggish friends. Tears formed in her eyes as she opened her mouth and shrieked. "SOMEBODY! ANYBODY! HEEEEEELLLLLLLP!" She struggled not to sob as she got ready to fight for all she was worth.
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Post by Bryson Desmonia on Jul 20, 2012 9:24:46 GMT -6
The small man turned to Bryson, mouth agape, pointing to the direction of the noise. The Bern man nodded his head, and then reached for the reins of the spooked horse, attempting to calm it down quickly. "Listen, ya runt. Ye stay right here, ya hear me?" The man looked confused, which was responded to by a rolling of the eyes from Bryson. "I'm goin' ta take care of this, a'right? And we can't very well have ye throwin' yerself inta harm's way, can we? So why don't we let me do the fightin', while ye stay nice and safe o'er here." Bryson finished his little speech by switching his lance over to his right hand and swinging his shield over into his waiting left hand, and then started trotting off. "I'll be right back! Ya wimp." The last part was muttered, possibly just loud enough for the man to hear.
Bryson, cursing the weight of his armor, arrived on the scene roughly a minute after the little girl had yelled, and, yes, she had reason to be screaming. He rolled his shoulders, pleased that his armor was on correctly, and then, holding his lance out, charged down the hill with a bellow. "A'right, ya cowards! Come on an' pick on someone yer own size!" One of the men, large fellows, they were, turned to greet Bryson with a surprised look and his weapon at his side, unfortunately at his waist were it wasn't going to do much good against impalement. Bryson's lance stuck out of the bandit's calf, leaving the man howling in pain, but was quickly silenced (and Bryson's weapon retrieved) by a quick bash with the shield to his chest. The armored man quickly got into position to deal with the others, wishing he had a helmet (not for the first time), with his shield held out and his lance thrust forward, ready to jab anyone who got close.
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Michaela
Cleric
Posts: 26
Affinity: Ice
OoC Alias: Derick
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Post by Michaela on Jul 20, 2012 11:46:20 GMT -6
"YAAAGGH!" Hugh crashed to the ground, a slew of curses streaming from his foul mouth. "What the?--" The boss and Durk turned away from the girl, Hugh's leg was a mangled mess as he lay on the ground, and behind him--! "Just our luck, one job, and a bloody knight shows up," the boss growled as he drew his blade. With Hugh already down, the boss' temper was up, no point in pretending to be merchants or some nonsense now. "You're gonna pay for messing with us!" Durk grinned vacantly, "Eah! 'F yoo scroow wif' uth, 'ool pay!"
Michaela's eyes widened even further and her mouth formed a broad grin despite her fear. A suit of armor, a sparkling lance...this is just like the stories! Nevertheless, fear overcame wonder as the bandits closed in. Even with one out of commission, he was still outnumbered.
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Post by Bryson Desmonia on Jul 20, 2012 13:56:09 GMT -6
Bryson stopped, the sheer idiocy staying him. "Really? Ye're the ones tryin' to kill a little girl, an' ye're goin' ta honestly expect me ta stand idly by?" the Bernese man asked, almost too sensibly, and then banged the butt of his lance on the ground. "Enough chit-chat! Have at ya!" Bryson bellowed, and then stopped again as a certain tiny horse being ridden by a tiny man holding a tiny broadsword rounded the hill.
"Bryan! I'm here to help!" the man shrieked, and then charged the two men. The one called Durk grinned a smile missing more than its share fare of teeth, and then a smaller axe spun through the air, only to embed itself in the torso of the small man, who's horse spooked again and ran off. Bryson sighed, making a mental note to pick up his ex-employer's purse before he left the area, while Durk's boss berated him for using their only throwing axe. Bryson turned to face the pair, advancing rather slowly.
"Good job, lads. Ye killed an innocent man." he rumbled, not sounding honesty too disappointed. "Now, due ta tha rather odd specifics of my contract, I've got no real other choice than ta kill ye." This, however, sounded almost glad, and he twirled his lance. Durk lunged with a large axe, only to impale himself on Bryson's lance: a testament to Durk's genius. The corpse was stuck pretty far; with his dying breath, Durk attempted to give his boss an advantage, and one that the sword-wielding man was determined to use.
Bryson lifted his left arm, still trying to dispose of the dead man, his shield ringing with a heavy blow from the blade. "Right." he grumbled, and then pulled his lance free, taking steps back as the boss attempted, again and again, to get a clean hit to Bryson's face.
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Michaela
Cleric
Posts: 26
Affinity: Ice
OoC Alias: Derick
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Post by Michaela on Jul 20, 2012 19:14:40 GMT -6
Michaela watched wide-eyed as the men roared at each other, and forced herself to look away. "Byran! I'm here to help!" The additional voice made Michaela uncover her eyes in confusion. A dashing man, with a silk cape flowing behind him and riding a gorgeous chestnut stallion, was riding into the fray. Michaela opened her mouth to cheer, but the cheer caught in her throat as an axe spiraled through the air and embedded itself in his chair. From his slumped position, Michaela knew her staff would be no good. Dark. Cold. Goosebumps broke out over Michaela's skin. She faintly heard the armored man roaring again, and then she heard a horrific tearing noise followed by liquid spilling. Oh, Elimine, no! She could almost feel her spirit being tainted by the death occurring. So...dark...Tears streamed from Michaela's eyes as she curled up in a ball behind the bandit's horse.
"Hugh!" The boss screamed as he attacked Bryson in a frenzy. "If you don't--" he dodged a counter-thrust and brought his blade bearing down, only to be block yet again by Bryson's shield. "--Get up and help, I'll--" He spun, leveling off the blade clumsily as he did so and striking much to slow. Bryson's spear haft easily deflected the attack. "--KILL YOU MYSELF!" With that last exclamation, Hugh hefted himself off the ground and made a very lopsided charge just as the boss raised his blade for a downward strike.
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Post by Bryson Desmonia on Jul 20, 2012 21:01:31 GMT -6
Blocking each and every ringing blow, each more jarring than the last, all while the man bellowed at the now-crippled Hugh, one would think Bryson was in a bad situation. He was outnumbered, even if the other man was practically deadweight, and the only way he would be able to kill the sword-swinger would be to back off or tire him out. Or, he could try something a little unorthodox. As the boss man brought his blade back and then forward, with a huge arc, Bryson sidestepped, leaving Hugh stumbling into the path of the boss's weapon's business end. Two solid thuds verified that something important had been lopped off, and obscenities confirmed what Bryson had only hoped for: that the boss's weapon was now stuck. Not caring where or what it was stuck in, Bryson turned around quickly, holding his lance out and catching the larger man in the chest.
The man fell to the ground with another thud, and got a boot to the chest before he could make a move. Bryson growled at him, and then held his arm up, flipping his lance so the tip was pointing at the man's head. "Any last words?" Bryson snarled, pressing harder with his boot. The man spat blood at Bryson, to which the Bern man shrugged, and then brought his arm and weapon down, impaling the man's face just to the left of the center of his forehead. Bryson quickly removed himself, drawing his weapon from the man's body, and then moved towards his employer's corpse. The thickset man tore the axe from the small, wiry man's chest, letting it sit on the ground a little ways away. He tore a piece of the man's ruined shirt off, using it to wipe clean his lance, and then, happy with its condition, moved to relieve the corpse of it's decent-sized, purple velvet purse, taken from the left boot. He removed the nice cloak, and then stood up, looking up the hill; why had that tiny horse decided to run off? It had most of Bryson's promised pay, and was probably the right size for this little girl. Speaking of her...
"Oi, lassie! Fightin's over; I won't hurt ya. Come on out."
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Michaela
Cleric
Posts: 26
Affinity: Ice
OoC Alias: Derick
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Post by Michaela on Jul 21, 2012 16:23:21 GMT -6
Michaela shivered, refusing to look as the clashes of steel and the bellowing of the men grew fainter with each successful rush of liquid...of blood. Thoughts kept infiltrating her mind; unpleasant thoughts such as is this how it was when Will-- She forced the thought out, instead opening her eyes and forcing herself to mentally examine the horse. A sparkling coat of brown...no...maybe chestnut...He looks healthy! I bet he could run for days! She continued in this vein, staring steadily at the horse and occasionally closing her eyes and shaking her head when her thoughts strayed from it. She hadn't even noticed the screaming had stopped until...
"Oi, lassie! Fightin's over; I won't hurt ya. Come on out." Michaela's head jerked towards the speaker and she scrambled a little ways back out of instinct. It was the same man she had seen dashing to her rescue before, expect his face was covered in flecks of blood. Michaela was willing to bet his armor was the same, but the gleam of the sun hid the blood well on his red armor. Michaela rose, putting a little more space between her and the stranger as she stood. "Wh-who are you?" Her voice was tight, her eyes were wide with fear and her knees were bent. To an impartial observer she must have looked like a spooked deer.
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Post by Bryson Desmonia on Jul 22, 2012 19:17:24 GMT -6
Bryson turned his head to face the little girl, and... Wow, she looked more spooked than the horse had been. He began to wish he could remove his armor and clean up in general, but that wasn't exactly a logical thing to do at this point. So he slung his shield back around his back and switched his lance to his left hand, staying where he was. "Name's Bryson." he said simply, and then raised an eyebrow as he wiped his goatee. "Yours?"
Okay, assessment. He was standing in practically the middle of nowhere with a young girl who looked ready to bolt at any moment, whom he had just rescued from a trio of bandits. The horse carrying the bulk of his pay had bolted, the man he was supposed to be body-guarding had gone and gotten himself killed, and he was now, once again, without any real place to go. He sighed, and then took a few heavy steps toward the girl. "Do ye know what they they were goin' ta do with ya?" he asked, pointing back at the boss's dead body with his right thumb.
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Michaela
Cleric
Posts: 26
Affinity: Ice
OoC Alias: Derick
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Post by Michaela on Jul 23, 2012 21:38:41 GMT -6
The man seemed to size her up before slinging his shield behind his back and resting his lance in his other hand, maybe he wasn't going to hurt her after all..."M-my name's Michaela..." She wiped her cheek before dusting off her cloak and standing a little taller. "Michaela Lux." She didn't know whether to curtsy for the man, so she busied herself with dusting her cloak off further instead.
"I..I have no idea where they were going..." Her voice grew a little weaker once again. "I've been unconscious, I didn't even know them until just a few minutes ago." She paled at the thought of explaining how she might have gotten into their company. The last thing she wanted to think of was--Wilhelm. Michaela trembled but forced the thought of her head, fortunately, a thought accompanying...him, distracted her. "Uhm...have you.....did one of those men have my staff?"
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Post by Bryson Desmonia on Jul 23, 2012 23:00:35 GMT -6
He nodded, acknowledging her name, and then moved forward, handing the cloak from his now-dead employer over to Michaela. "He won't be needin' that anymore, wouldn't ye say?" he smiled tiredly, and turned around. He thought back to the fight, but during all of it, he hadn't seen anything that looked like a staff, and what did this girl have a staff for? Was it like a walking stick or something? Was she partially lame? Well, that didn't make sense right there; she looked ready to run off at any moment... Oh, look, the bandits had a horse, too. Maybe they had some essentials for them, like food, water, and, better yet, a little bit of money and Michaela's staff. Bryson clanked on over, checking the horse over.
Again, not as big as the work horses he was used to seeing, but this one was much larger than the one that had bolted. He turned around, looking for a place to put his lance, and then sighed yet again and looked at the girl. "Catch." he barked, and tossed his lance, underhanded and longways, at the girl. He then set to checking the saddlebags, and quickly discovered that these bandits were, in fact, carrying six canteens (four of which were full), enough dried meat to last three men a few months, some tinder and a piece of steel and flint, a poorly made blanket, and about thirty coins. Oh, and a staff, which he held up. "Is this what ye're lookin' fer?"
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Michaela
Cleric
Posts: 26
Affinity: Ice
OoC Alias: Derick
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Post by Michaela on Jul 23, 2012 23:32:08 GMT -6
Michaela looked at Bryson with a startled expression as he offered her the man's cloak. "Th-thank you!" Unease gave way for excitement as Michaela took the cloak from his hands. It was much too big for her, and she wouldn't abandon the charming white healer's cloak Miss Grey had given her, but it was an admirable article of clothing. It was a fetching shade of dark green, and the fabric was thick, yet smooth. It might make a good blanket. "I-I suppose not..." Sadness tainted her blue eyes as she glanced over at the death surrounding them.
On mentioning the bandits, the man, Bryson, seemed to have an idea. His armor, still a thing of stories as far as Michaela was concerned, clanked heavily as he firmly trotted towards the corpses strewn about. His efforts were hindered by his formidable lance, but Michaela gasped in shock when he unloaded it onto her. She did manage the catch the lance, the weight of it caught her off guard and nearly caused her to tumble over. The thing must have weighed three times heavier than her healing staff, which was an unwieldy object in itself!
Michaela occupied herself by hefting the weight of the lance and marveling at the fact that her rescuer could fight with such a thing. She dimly heard a ruckus as Bryson sifted through the bandit's belongings, but it was almost hypnotic to toss the lance up and watch it spin before catching it in her hands. "You were r-really handy with this...thing!"
Bryson resurfaced from checking a bandit on the ground. "Is this what ye're lookin' fer?" he grunted. "My staff!" Michaela waddled over to the knight, trying her best to avoid being tripped up by the lance. "Thank you so much!" She hefted the lance up with both hands and dumped it into Bryson's arm, taking the staff off of his hands. The worn, oak wood topped with a brilliant blue orb was unmistakable.
Dropping out of her elation, Michaela looked over the knight shyly with her Heal gripped in both of her hands. "Are you hurt? I mean, do you..." Her eyes traced the glint of blood droplets on her armor, she could feel the coldness of the men around her even without tuning her spirit. "...Do you need healing?..." There was fear in her voice as memories of the cold embrace of death around her heart crept in.
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Post by Bryson Desmonia on Jul 24, 2012 21:04:09 GMT -6
Bryson raised an eyebrow at the girl, and then rested his lance on his shoulder. "Healin'?" he asked simply, and thought back. Come to think of it, that staff looked awfully similar to a few he'd seen at one of the churches, years ago, before he settled down, but he had always assumed those to be decorative. This staff, however, did look a little less fancy, and quite a bit more practical... Was this girl some sort of priestess, or did she steal it from one? The offer to heal his wounds would suggest the former, but it could just as easily be a bluff, seeing as the worst injury he would be walking away with would probably be a sore arm and a couple bruises. "I'll be fine." he grumbled. Great. His internal debate plus skirmish fatigue had left him with a headache. "How 'bout ye? Or can't ye heal yerself with one o' those?"
Time to give the girl the benefit of the doubt. She didn't look like much of a thief, anyway, and a priestess would be worth more to bandits than a thief. Unless the thief had stolen some of their loot or was infamous enough to have a bounty large enough to cause criminals to want to go after her... Which would be a pretty large accomplishment for someone her size. But then again, Bryson was no expert on these kinds of things; he had only heard about them in passing, in stories and around a drink. Saint Elimine be damned, now is not tha time ta be worryin' 'bout this, so just let it go, ya pansy. Bryson mentally berated himself, and then looked at Michaela again. "Ya got anywhere ye need to go? Any family anywhere ye need ta get back ta? I'll drop ye off where ye need ta go."
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Michaela
Cleric
Posts: 26
Affinity: Ice
OoC Alias: Derick
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Post by Michaela on Jul 24, 2012 22:02:46 GMT -6
The word 'healing' sounded somewhat foreign coming out of the knight's mouth. He pronounced it in the same way one would say a word of another language, but by his thoughtful expression Michaela just supposed he hadn't been around it much. She eyed him closely when he said he'd be fine. Miss Grey had said that people, men in particular, would often try to play off their wounds, but Bryson seemed to be telling the truth...the blood on his armor must just be from other men, Michaela thought with a distasteful quirk of her mouth.
Michaela shook her head in response to the knight's questions, "no, I'm unharmed, thanks to you!" She shook her head again and smiled in a friendly manner, his second question was common from those unfamiliar with healing. "Even if I was injured, I'd need another healer or my vulnerary to cure myself." Healing was an act of the spirit, but for unknown reasons healing staves don't react when healers try to direct that spirit energy at themselves. Michaela's small smile faded as the knight posed his next question. "I-I...uhm...no...I don't have anywhere to go...my home...these men..." She gestured at the bandits in a lost sort of way. Sadness would come again, she was sure, but at the moment she hadn't even thought that the life she once lived was gone forever.
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