The Isran Empire
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 105 
Registered: May 23, 2017 16:46:10 GMT -8
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Post by The Isran Empire on Dec 11, 2018 14:57:28 GMT -8
 BluebirchContrary to what the name implies, the little village of Bluebirch is neither blue nor surrounded by a notable number of birch trees. Founded by a man by the name of Ichabod Doolittle, it was named after its founder for all of two weeks before his extensive collection of indecent sketches of gnomes was revealed to the public by a man named Bluebirch. Nobody had really liked Mr. Doolittle in the first place, and he was run out of town in disgrace. The town was promptly renamed. |
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Fiona Blythe
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 107
Age: 25
Physical Description: ==================================================
Quite attractive, which is quite the benefit of her public profession. High cheek bones, a sharp jawline and thin nose, soft cheeks, and a stunning outlook about her.
Her eyes are a warm green, and her skin on the paler side, but it is hard to tell if it's natural or just well applied makeup until closer inspection. Her hair drops down past her shoulders, and a dark, aged timber brown.
Catching one's eye is her goal, afterall.
She is of medium height and wonderfully maintained build, toned but soft where it matters.
Clothes and Equipment: ==================================================
In public, she can be seen wearing expensive dresses, low cut at the front, and perfectly tailored. As well as her modest jewellery, she wears a specific broach worn by those of her profession, the silver dove of the working women's union, a group of independant whores and escorts.
During her more clandestine dealings however, she wears an incognito set of clothes, featuring a tight pair of dark green greaves, soft and comfy boots that reach up her shins, a basic white shirt, a dark red vest with a handful of pockets, and a dark green hooded cloak that matches her greaves. On top of this, she wears a belt with plenty of pouches to carry her tools of the trade. Finally, a dark maroon scarf is worn over her pale features to hide her identity.
For weaponry, she carries a pair of knives, hidden away for her own protection, however she has also been seen with a seemingly basic bow from time to time. On her belt, however, she hides a small hand-crossbow, and just enough bolts to get her out of a tight spot.
Her tool belt contains many tricks of the trade, including lockpicks, a glass cutter, smoke bombs for a quick get away, and even a handful of stink bombs.
Registered: Jan 12, 2019 23:02:23 GMT -8
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Post by Fiona Blythe on Jan 13, 2019 1:35:54 GMT -8
The Thief and the Whore. Lightning flashed in the near distance, lighting up the dark folds of cloud that hung over the valley, and overpowering the meagre lights of Bluebirch ten-fold, at the very least. The deep rumble of thunder, like the rumbling belly of a starving giant, resounded through the cold air, heralding the arrival of the storm which had sat brewing in the mountains for days, if the travelling merchants were to be believed. Thankfully, the intrepid Fiona Blythe had arrived just in time to hear the first few drops of rain land on the top of her coach as it pulled into the small town of Bluebirch. What business did someone like her have here? She usually catered to those of wealth and sophistication, her prices reflected that, but perhaps she had felt a change of heart. Or she had other ideas. She steps out of the coach and into the dirt under her. If she didn't hurry, that dirt would soon turn to mud, something she would rather not deal with. She could smell the rain coming in the air, and the flashes of lightning and rumbles of thunder was only getting closer and closer together. With a heft of her bag, she makes a beeline for the inn she had been told about. The attractive woman is quick to cross the threshold of the inn, just before the rain came bucketing down. The next person was less lucky, stepping in as if they had just walked out of a waterfall. Poor bastard. Of course, nobody paid them much mind, instead she found herself with more than one pair of eyes on her. It was to be expected, as she wore her low cut, red dress with the gold thread lining and pattern work. The silver dove sat on her ample bosom, no doubt pushed up tactically, and her makeup was superb tonight. Though, she was almost sure nobody would be able to pay her prices, but perhaps it would result in a free drink or two. She makes her way to the bar with a practiced stride and confidence in each step. “Quite the weather. Made it just in time, wouldn't you say?” She asks with a bright smile. “I would like a room, please. Something spacious, perhaps facing east, if you have anything available?” What was she up to… |
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The Isran Empire
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 105
Registered: May 23, 2017 16:46:10 GMT -8
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Post by The Isran Empire on Jan 13, 2019 19:21:33 GMT -8
In a town as small as Bluebirch, any newcomer was quickly noticed. Most were of little interest to the locals, however. Aside from the occasional traveling mage or particularly interesting wandering storyteller, visitors were rarely spared a second glance. Few newcomers, however, looked like Fiona Blythe. As the young woman walked into the inn, the locals shot her a second glance, then a third, then a fourth. The silver dove caught many an eye, although none of the patrons recognized it as anything other than a piece of fetching jewelry.
The man at the counter was a young lad, barely more than a boy. The innkeeper's son, perhaps? Just a local trying to make some extra cash? In any case, he seemed to be more than a little flustered at Fiona's request. After a moment's hesitation, he finally managed to stutter out a response.
"Uh, yeah, awful weather. W-welcome! A r-room? Yes, we have those! We're an inn! What sort of inn would we be without rooms to rent? We'd be more of an out, don't you think? Heheh...um, never mind. East, you say? Uh...I think we have one of those."
He consulted a crudely drawn chart for a moment before pulling a room key off a rack behind the bar. Handing her the key (and trying not to freeze up when their fingers touched), he grinned nervously.
"You're in room number 4, with east-facing windows. If there's anything you need, anything at all...please don't hesitate to ask. That's what we're here for, you know. Inn-keepers. Or assistant-innkeepers. You know."
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Fiona Blythe
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 107
Age: 25
Physical Description: ==================================================
Quite attractive, which is quite the benefit of her public profession. High cheek bones, a sharp jawline and thin nose, soft cheeks, and a stunning outlook about her.
Her eyes are a warm green, and her skin on the paler side, but it is hard to tell if it's natural or just well applied makeup until closer inspection. Her hair drops down past her shoulders, and a dark, aged timber brown.
Catching one's eye is her goal, afterall.
She is of medium height and wonderfully maintained build, toned but soft where it matters.
Clothes and Equipment: ==================================================
In public, she can be seen wearing expensive dresses, low cut at the front, and perfectly tailored. As well as her modest jewellery, she wears a specific broach worn by those of her profession, the silver dove of the working women's union, a group of independant whores and escorts.
During her more clandestine dealings however, she wears an incognito set of clothes, featuring a tight pair of dark green greaves, soft and comfy boots that reach up her shins, a basic white shirt, a dark red vest with a handful of pockets, and a dark green hooded cloak that matches her greaves. On top of this, she wears a belt with plenty of pouches to carry her tools of the trade. Finally, a dark maroon scarf is worn over her pale features to hide her identity.
For weaponry, she carries a pair of knives, hidden away for her own protection, however she has also been seen with a seemingly basic bow from time to time. On her belt, however, she hides a small hand-crossbow, and just enough bolts to get her out of a tight spot.
Her tool belt contains many tricks of the trade, including lockpicks, a glass cutter, smoke bombs for a quick get away, and even a handful of stink bombs.
Registered: Jan 12, 2019 23:02:23 GMT -8
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Post by Fiona Blythe on Jan 13, 2019 19:45:48 GMT -8
A light chuckle escapes the woman, finding the flustered lad somewhat charming in his mannerisms. The simple small town folk around here never quite know what to say to a woman of her stature or figure, and it's something she has grown to appreciate on her little jaunts away from the hustle and bustle of higher society.
“You most certainly are an in, as opposed to an out,” she says with a genuine smile as she takes the key, making sure to graze his own fingers with her soft fingertips, a practiced move on her part. There's something about stealing away someone's attention in such a way, to turn them into clay in one's hands, to be morphed and sculpted into something of use. As she understands it, this lad is getting to the point where he would do literally anything she asks, should it come to it.
That makes him useful, a tool to be used when the situation demands it.
She takes the key before passing a small bag of coins over the counter, each one with the gleaming face of the empress herself. Not the grubby coins they use in the small town, but polished, clean coins from the city. Freshly minted? Personally polished? It wouldn't be of much a surprise if the latter is the case, considering how clean and well cut the woman is.
Either way, it was enough for the room, and probably just a little more, enough that Fiona wouldn't likely miss it, but enough that it may very well make a difference. That is Fiona, some would say, a selfish taker, but a generous giver. Though nobody really knows about the former until it's too late.
“Thank you, sir,” she says with a bright smile, flashing her pretty clean teeth. “I'll be sure to let you know should I need any assistance. For now though, I intend to enjoy the rain from the comfort of the room provided.”
She hefts her back onto her back again, a bag that doesn't match her outfit very well, but who was complaining? She doubts there are many fashion critics in these parts. “Goodbye for now.”
With that, she turns about and heads for the stairs, and straight up then to find her room. She finds the room to be a cozy spot, nothing to write home about, but it had that rustic flair to it, one that many may overlook. Its to her specifications though, roomy enough and facing east.
She opens the door to listen to the rain come down before dumping her bag on the bed, but she doesn't move to open it. Instead, she gathers her lovely dress and takes a seat by the small table by the window. What she wouldn't do for a cup of tea… did she have time? She couldn't be sure.
Everything had been going according to plan so far. Now, she waits, the next stage no longer in her hands.
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The Isran Empire
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 105
Registered: May 23, 2017 16:46:10 GMT -8
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Post by The Isran Empire on Jan 14, 2019 23:19:02 GMT -8
Fiona, it seemed, had gotten inside at just the right time. Outside the window of her cozy room, the storm raged. Heavy raindrops pounded on the roof, and the view outside was pitch-black. Every now and then lightning would illuminate the street, followed moments later by a boom of thunder. Luckily for Fiona, the roof was sound, and her room was warm and dry.
Although she'd asked for something spacious, the room she'd been given was rather modest in size and decor. It featured nothing more than a small desk, a mirror, and a bed. Candles sat on the desk, casting a warm glow over the room. The bed seemed soft enough, and the blankets seemed clean (if somewhat scratchy). It was really only big enough for one, although two could probably fit if they were very friendly. Despite the somewhat spartan furnishings, however, the room seemed perfectly adequate.
A flash of lightning revealed a man running in the street, likely to get out of the rain. The poor soul must have gotten caught out there by surprise. Moments later, Fiona would hear the front door bang open downstairs as the man ran inside. There was some incoherent shouting from downstairs, but whatever words were said were quickly drowned out by the rumble of thunder. As it subsided, a sharp smack rung out, and the conversation continued inaudibly. The lightning flashed again, revealing the silhouette of a lone man standing out in the street.
What a lovely evening to be indoors.
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Fiona Blythe
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 107
Age: 25
Physical Description: ==================================================
Quite attractive, which is quite the benefit of her public profession. High cheek bones, a sharp jawline and thin nose, soft cheeks, and a stunning outlook about her.
Her eyes are a warm green, and her skin on the paler side, but it is hard to tell if it's natural or just well applied makeup until closer inspection. Her hair drops down past her shoulders, and a dark, aged timber brown.
Catching one's eye is her goal, afterall.
She is of medium height and wonderfully maintained build, toned but soft where it matters.
Clothes and Equipment: ==================================================
In public, she can be seen wearing expensive dresses, low cut at the front, and perfectly tailored. As well as her modest jewellery, she wears a specific broach worn by those of her profession, the silver dove of the working women's union, a group of independant whores and escorts.
During her more clandestine dealings however, she wears an incognito set of clothes, featuring a tight pair of dark green greaves, soft and comfy boots that reach up her shins, a basic white shirt, a dark red vest with a handful of pockets, and a dark green hooded cloak that matches her greaves. On top of this, she wears a belt with plenty of pouches to carry her tools of the trade. Finally, a dark maroon scarf is worn over her pale features to hide her identity.
For weaponry, she carries a pair of knives, hidden away for her own protection, however she has also been seen with a seemingly basic bow from time to time. On her belt, however, she hides a small hand-crossbow, and just enough bolts to get her out of a tight spot.
Her tool belt contains many tricks of the trade, including lockpicks, a glass cutter, smoke bombs for a quick get away, and even a handful of stink bombs.
Registered: Jan 12, 2019 23:02:23 GMT -8
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Bluebirch
Jan 14, 2019 23:46:46 GMT -8
via mobile
Post by Fiona Blythe on Jan 14, 2019 23:46:46 GMT -8
The room was perfect for a short stay, by all means, but it held no candle to Fiona's own home, one she would be returning to in a day or two. Once she had done what she needed to get done here first, of course. She finds the furnishings quaint, not quite the style she would go for herself, but it wasn't unpleasant to look at. The sheets didn't look the quality she had grown accustomed to, making her write a mental note to not sleep in the nude tonight, if she could help it. Scratchy sheets usually keep her awake.
She sits back and enjoys the cool breeze that came from the open window, and she lets the sound of the rain wash over her, a somewhat soothing sound that brought peace to her, much like the sound of a babbling brook in a spring forest, or the silence of a snowy day in the countryside. Any time to get out of the hustle and bustle of the city was a time Fiona could truly enjoy.
The splashing of boots in the rain catches her attention though, and before long she finds herself at the windowsill, peering over the side to see what the rush is. Undoubtedly to get out of the rain, she imagines, but there's an urgency to the figure's gait that makes her think that perhaps something else is afoot.
The shouting confirms this for the woman, making her furrow her neatly shaped eyebrows. Shouting rarely meant much good, not when the offender isn't advertising turnips for three gold a piece. A rip off price, in Fiona's mind, which is why she rarely goes to the markets in the richer parts of the city anymore.
She reaches into her bag and retrieves her daggers, a pair of undecorated pieces, nothing too flashy or eye-catching, for a good reason no doubt. Anything that would stop her being identified when she would have them out was a damn good thing in her main trade.
She slips one into a special compartment on her boot, and one in another pocket at the back of her dress, the opening obscured by her lavish belt. Both remained expertly hidden for now, but a firm pat down of her back would surely find the blade.
Fiona silently moves to the door and opens it, curious of the shouting, but the crack of thunder that almost covers the smack stole her attention fully. Her curiosity knew no limits, a true flaw even if she would never admit it, it pulls at her, influencing her to take the first step, and she is powerless to stop it.
Quietly, the woman creeps down the hall, then peers down the stairs. He's still there, thankfully, spiking her curiosity even further.
“My goodness,” she breathes as she heads down the stairs, feigning fright and discomfort. “What is the matter?" She asks, her voice light and curious. "What a dreadful racket, as if the storm isn't enough. It's got the potential to frighten anyone!” Who doesn't help a beautiful lady in need of assistance? Hopefully her performance would yield the information to satisfy her curiosity, or a drink to 'calm her nerves’.
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The Isran Empire
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 105
Registered: May 23, 2017 16:46:10 GMT -8
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Post by The Isran Empire on Jan 15, 2019 0:17:28 GMT -8
As Fiona made her appearance in the bar, the eyes in the room turned towards her once more. However, they didn't linger nearly as long as the last time. Instead, most of the inn's occupants were focused on a man seated at the bar, soaked head-to-toe and dripping on the floor. He was dressed oddly, wearing leather guards over his arms and shoulders. The leather was painted black, and seemed to be scratched and dented over his right forearm. A bruise on the side of his face told the tale of a sharp blow, and he gulped down a stiff glass of brandy with a shaking hand. He was muttering something, gibbering incomprehensibly, to which the bartender simply shushed him and refilled his glass. It was a different man at the bar, and older man with grey in his beard and a powerful build.
"Drink this and settle your nerves," he said, his voice deep and reproachful. "Don't start yelling your head off again, or I'll lay you out. Understand?"
The man nodded nervously, drinking the brandy as though he was dying of thirst. His eyes were wide with fear, and he glanced over his shoulder at the door between sips.
"It-it-it's coming," he said. "It's c-coming for me, it knows what I did, it's coming here, it's all my fault, I let it sl-"
He was interrupted by the bartender's anvil of a hand coming down on the counter with a bang, causing every glass on the bar to bounce.
"Get a grip," the bartender ordered. "Calm yourself, settle down, and then you can tell us all about what's going on. Before that, shut up."
A hand tapped Fiona on the shoulder, gentle and timid. It was the boy from before, and he jerked his hand back when she turned his way.
"He just ran in here screaming bloody murder," he said. "Something about a monster out there. I wouldn't worry though, miss. There aren't any monsters here in Bluebirch. He's clearly just crazy, maybe a hailstone hit him on the head. My father set him straight, though."
Still, his voice seemed uncertain. As the man glanced back towards the door once more, the boy turned as well, just in time for a flash of lightning to illuminate the street. The same figure was still standing out there, in the middle of the path. The boy frowned.
"I wonder what that fellow is doing, standing out there like that," he mused. "He'll catch a cold in the rain like that."
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Fiona Blythe
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 107
Age: 25
Physical Description: ==================================================
Quite attractive, which is quite the benefit of her public profession. High cheek bones, a sharp jawline and thin nose, soft cheeks, and a stunning outlook about her.
Her eyes are a warm green, and her skin on the paler side, but it is hard to tell if it's natural or just well applied makeup until closer inspection. Her hair drops down past her shoulders, and a dark, aged timber brown.
Catching one's eye is her goal, afterall.
She is of medium height and wonderfully maintained build, toned but soft where it matters.
Clothes and Equipment: ==================================================
In public, she can be seen wearing expensive dresses, low cut at the front, and perfectly tailored. As well as her modest jewellery, she wears a specific broach worn by those of her profession, the silver dove of the working women's union, a group of independant whores and escorts.
During her more clandestine dealings however, she wears an incognito set of clothes, featuring a tight pair of dark green greaves, soft and comfy boots that reach up her shins, a basic white shirt, a dark red vest with a handful of pockets, and a dark green hooded cloak that matches her greaves. On top of this, she wears a belt with plenty of pouches to carry her tools of the trade. Finally, a dark maroon scarf is worn over her pale features to hide her identity.
For weaponry, she carries a pair of knives, hidden away for her own protection, however she has also been seen with a seemingly basic bow from time to time. On her belt, however, she hides a small hand-crossbow, and just enough bolts to get her out of a tight spot.
Her tool belt contains many tricks of the trade, including lockpicks, a glass cutter, smoke bombs for a quick get away, and even a handful of stink bombs.
Registered: Jan 12, 2019 23:02:23 GMT -8
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Bluebirch
Jan 15, 2019 0:42:33 GMT -8
via mobile
Post by Fiona Blythe on Jan 15, 2019 0:42:33 GMT -8
Fiona watches the scene unfold before her, curiosity dissatisfied with the lack of answer to her questions. Though, considering how imposing the man is, and just how scared he had become, would excuse the lack of attention.
She listens intently before jumping at the sudden slam of the barkeep's hand, taking her by surprise in the moment. A monster? Out here? She had heard nothing about this sort of thing about Bluebirch, if there was such a thing it would surely be bigger news! No, something else is afoot…
The woman's stolen from her thoughts by the tap on the shoulder, and she turns to see the lad from before. Ah, this could yield a little something, especially considering she had topped generously.
She listens intently before speaking. “I see. Well, we can't account for everyone's health, can we?” she says before tapping her head with a smile and a wink. “I'm sure after a drink or two, he'll be fine.”
As the boy's gaze goes to the door, Fiona's follows it, subconsciously wondering what could be more interesting than her intoxicating eyes. Perhaps one is getting a little full of herself? Regardless, she narrows her eyes at the silhouette, wondering what this new character's story is. Finally, she looks back to the boy. “He must enjoy the rain, or I dare say he may just need a wash.” She chuckles and pats him on the shoulder with a wink. “Stay with your father, my boy, just in case the man's lunacy decided to flair again.”
She stands again, sparing another glance at the door, before hurrying upstairs again. That man in the door didn't sit right with the young woman, not at all, so either he's here for trouble, or has lost his mind. Either way, she did not plan to find out, not while improperly dressed.
Fiona scurries back to her room and steps inside before locking the door behind her. She spares just a moment to close the windows, then dives into her bag to retrieve her kit. She only has a few moments to get dressed, but that was just enough time thanks to her practiced ease of changing into something a little more adventurous.
And no, not in that way.
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The Isran Empire
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 105
Registered: May 23, 2017 16:46:10 GMT -8
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Post by The Isran Empire on Jan 15, 2019 13:04:18 GMT -8
The boy's eyes widened at Fiona's wink, and he gave an awkward wave as she made her way back upstairs to her room. As she closed the shutters on the window, another flash of lightning would illuminate an empty street. The figure was gone, perhaps having had enough of the rain. Of course, any sane being would have gotten out of the weather by now. The storm was getting heavier by the minute, with no signs of letting up.
As Fiona was getting changed into something more comfortable, the front door would slam open once more. Heavy boots would rush into the inn, stomping and thudding on the wooden floor, followed by more indistinct shouting. The sounds of a scuffle would break out, followed by more muffled shouting and a series of heavy thumps that sounded suspiciously like someone's head being beaten against a bar. A moment later, a timid knock on the door announced the appearance of the boy from the bar.
"E-excuse me, miss," he said. "Some men came in, the authorities, to take that madman away. They'd like to speak with everyone who saw him, so they'd like for you to come downstairs."
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Fiona Blythe
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 107
Age: 25
Physical Description: ==================================================
Quite attractive, which is quite the benefit of her public profession. High cheek bones, a sharp jawline and thin nose, soft cheeks, and a stunning outlook about her.
Her eyes are a warm green, and her skin on the paler side, but it is hard to tell if it's natural or just well applied makeup until closer inspection. Her hair drops down past her shoulders, and a dark, aged timber brown.
Catching one's eye is her goal, afterall.
She is of medium height and wonderfully maintained build, toned but soft where it matters.
Clothes and Equipment: ==================================================
In public, she can be seen wearing expensive dresses, low cut at the front, and perfectly tailored. As well as her modest jewellery, she wears a specific broach worn by those of her profession, the silver dove of the working women's union, a group of independant whores and escorts.
During her more clandestine dealings however, she wears an incognito set of clothes, featuring a tight pair of dark green greaves, soft and comfy boots that reach up her shins, a basic white shirt, a dark red vest with a handful of pockets, and a dark green hooded cloak that matches her greaves. On top of this, she wears a belt with plenty of pouches to carry her tools of the trade. Finally, a dark maroon scarf is worn over her pale features to hide her identity.
For weaponry, she carries a pair of knives, hidden away for her own protection, however she has also been seen with a seemingly basic bow from time to time. On her belt, however, she hides a small hand-crossbow, and just enough bolts to get her out of a tight spot.
Her tool belt contains many tricks of the trade, including lockpicks, a glass cutter, smoke bombs for a quick get away, and even a handful of stink bombs.
Registered: Jan 12, 2019 23:02:23 GMT -8
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Bluebirch
Jan 15, 2019 16:34:44 GMT -8
via mobile
Post by Fiona Blythe on Jan 15, 2019 16:34:44 GMT -8
Fiona was just about done getting her things together when she hears the front door downstairs burst open with a mighty slam, no doubt this monster the man spoke of. She buckles her belt with a renewed haste, and tightens her boots with a firm tug of the laces.
Finally, she opens the windows again and sets one foot on the windowsill, ready to leap out and go in through the front door, blades ready. It couldn't be a coincidence that this series of events is happening just after her arrival, without a doubt. Someone had talked, and it wouldn't be hard to find out who, only a handful of people knows of her business in Bluebirch.
Then the knock at the door, snapping her attention to it like a startled rodent. Fitting, considering how many people called her a rat for her dealings. As the boy spoke, frustration spread through her like creeping ivy, partly because of the authorities being here which didn't bode well for her if they were after her, but also because she had just changed. Damn it.
“I'll be down in a moment, sir,” she calls out as she lowers her foot. “I'm indecent for the moment. Allow me to get dressed, please.”
That should eliminate all suspicion, while also distracting the boy, to be sure. She immediately starts to change back into her dress, cursing her luck. Usually she was able to read such a situation, but tonight she had read the wrong words, even if they're on the right page. It happened, just not very often.
It only takes her a few minutes, slipping her dress on, tightening her corset, which she hated, and changing her boots to something much more attractive. “Damn it. Damn it damn it damn it,” she grumbles to herself as she pats herself down to make herself much more presentable.
With a few short steps, she leaves her room and makes a beeline for the stairs, being sure to look as flustered as possible. “More commotion, goodness. Can't a woman change and prepare for bed in peace? Most inconvenient.” Got to hand it to her, she did outraged bourgeois well. Probably learned by watching the aftermath of her work.
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The Isran Empire
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 105
Registered: May 23, 2017 16:46:10 GMT -8
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Post by The Isran Empire on Jan 15, 2019 16:54:51 GMT -8
As Fiona stepped once more down the stairwell and into the bar, she would be met with a very different scene than the last time she'd been down here. This time, nobody paid her the slightest mind as she entered the room. Instead, everyone was focused on three men standing in the center of the room. All three wore long black leather coats and gloves, which glistened with water in the flickering candlelight. It wasn't the typical uniform of the guards, not as far as anybody who'd been in Isra would have seen. However, all three wore shining golden pins with the Isran crest on the shoulder of their cloaks. Two of them held the terrified man from before between them, slumped over. His face was bloodied and swollen, and he mumbled incoherently. Upon Fiona's arrival, the third man glanced over at her, before speaking.
"Good evening, all of you. The man you see before you is dangerously insane, and we have come to take him back into our custody. You're lucky that you are all unharmed. Do not trust a word that he has spoken to you, they are all the ravings of a madman. Please don't worry about him, and have a good night. Remember, anything that he said is simply his own twisted imagination."
The injured man raised his head, spitting out a tooth before crying out.
"Please, it wasn't my fault! There were bandits, they let it escape! Don't take me away, it'll come f-"
The third man stepped behind him, gagging the man with a rag. Tying the gag behind the unfortunate man's head, he threw a black hood over the man's face and nodded to the other two. They began to drag the struggling, blindfolded man out the door, despite his muffled shouts.
"Like I said," he continued. "Dangerously insane. He'll be taken somewhere where he can't harm himself or others. It's lucky that we came when we did, you never know what might have happened. Especially with a lady in the building."
He nodded to Fiona, and headed for the door. The bartender muttered something about the authorities' porcine heritage under his breath as he wiped the blood off the countertop, and the boy let out a sigh of relief.
"I sure am glad they got rid of him. Gosh, who would have known?"
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Fiona Blythe
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 107
Age: 25
Physical Description: ==================================================
Quite attractive, which is quite the benefit of her public profession. High cheek bones, a sharp jawline and thin nose, soft cheeks, and a stunning outlook about her.
Her eyes are a warm green, and her skin on the paler side, but it is hard to tell if it's natural or just well applied makeup until closer inspection. Her hair drops down past her shoulders, and a dark, aged timber brown.
Catching one's eye is her goal, afterall.
She is of medium height and wonderfully maintained build, toned but soft where it matters.
Clothes and Equipment: ==================================================
In public, she can be seen wearing expensive dresses, low cut at the front, and perfectly tailored. As well as her modest jewellery, she wears a specific broach worn by those of her profession, the silver dove of the working women's union, a group of independant whores and escorts.
During her more clandestine dealings however, she wears an incognito set of clothes, featuring a tight pair of dark green greaves, soft and comfy boots that reach up her shins, a basic white shirt, a dark red vest with a handful of pockets, and a dark green hooded cloak that matches her greaves. On top of this, she wears a belt with plenty of pouches to carry her tools of the trade. Finally, a dark maroon scarf is worn over her pale features to hide her identity.
For weaponry, she carries a pair of knives, hidden away for her own protection, however she has also been seen with a seemingly basic bow from time to time. On her belt, however, she hides a small hand-crossbow, and just enough bolts to get her out of a tight spot.
Her tool belt contains many tricks of the trade, including lockpicks, a glass cutter, smoke bombs for a quick get away, and even a handful of stink bombs.
Registered: Jan 12, 2019 23:02:23 GMT -8
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Bluebirch
Jan 15, 2019 17:28:48 GMT -8
via mobile
Post by Fiona Blythe on Jan 15, 2019 17:28:48 GMT -8
Fiona watches the going on, her mind racing and finding all the possibilities. It may be just the ramblings of a mad man, but why beat him senseless? She understood why they would gag him of course, so he couldn't ramble more, but anyone could do that. Why send these strange men? They had the golden crest, but they weren't the usual guardsmen, these fellows were… special. Unique. Different.
That makes her curious.
She begins to back up the stairs, making a show of being frustrated and flustered. “Well, I certainly hope for no more interruptions tonight,” she says, looking to the boy as she climbs the stairs. “Goodnight lad.”
Her soft steps took her to her room, the door of which she locks again, intent to not open it again tonight. No more interruptions. She had hoped for a good rest before getting to work tomorrow, but she knows her curiosity and gut feeling would just keep her up, which only meant one thing. Time to suit up again.
It, once again, doesn't take her long to get into her more adventurous gear, and with her hood up she steps up into the window frame again. This time, she goes uninterrupted, climbing down the windowsill and dropping down to the ground below.
She hunkers down for a moment, making sure she wasn't seen, then shoots off in the direction those fellows went, hoping she could track and catch up with them. On a night like tonight, it could be easy to lose the tracks, but the mud has become deep at this point, making them a little slow to fill, plus the long trenches caused by the dragged man made it all the easier to follow.
She sticks to the shadows, even if the whole world had been plunged into them by the storm overhead, and under as much cover as possible in a futile attempt to remain as dry as possible, purely so she isn't weighed down by waterlogged clothes. Thankfully though, when choosing her outfit, using materials that didn't absorb too much water, parts that are thin and easy to wring out, or easy and cheap to replace. If part of it was to get too bogged down and she couldn't wring it out quickly enough? She could just discard that piece.
Even with the mud, she manages to keep a decent pace.
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The Isran Empire
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 105
Registered: May 23, 2017 16:46:10 GMT -8
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Post by The Isran Empire on Jan 15, 2019 17:44:14 GMT -8
As Fiona climbed out the window and dropped to the ground, she'd find herself falling directly into what was either a very large puddle or a very small pond. The pouring ran flooded through every rut and divot of the street, making any attempt to stay dry completely and utterly futile. Still, it wasn't hard to follow the tracks of the guards, and the darkness and rain kept her from being spotted. She caught up to them quickly enough at the edge of town, standing by a black, unmarked carriage. Lanterns hung from the carriage, casting a dim orange glow over the three guards and their captive. They opened the carriage door and threw the man unceremoniously inside. Two of them followed him in, while a third moved to the front of the carriage, clambering up to the driver's seat.
All of a sudden, a flash of lightning illuminated the whole street for a split-second, revealing the silhouette of a man standing a ways down the road from the carriage. The driver stopped, then hopped off the seat and walked around to the back. He banged on the door and exchanged some words with the men inside, although they were inaudible over the pounding rain. After some brief deliberation, the two guards climbed out and locked the carriage, leaving the prisoner alone inside. Taking one of the lanterns from the carriage, they began walking down the road into the darkness, towards where they'd seen the man.
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Fiona Blythe
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 107
Age: 25
Physical Description: ==================================================
Quite attractive, which is quite the benefit of her public profession. High cheek bones, a sharp jawline and thin nose, soft cheeks, and a stunning outlook about her.
Her eyes are a warm green, and her skin on the paler side, but it is hard to tell if it's natural or just well applied makeup until closer inspection. Her hair drops down past her shoulders, and a dark, aged timber brown.
Catching one's eye is her goal, afterall.
She is of medium height and wonderfully maintained build, toned but soft where it matters.
Clothes and Equipment: ==================================================
In public, she can be seen wearing expensive dresses, low cut at the front, and perfectly tailored. As well as her modest jewellery, she wears a specific broach worn by those of her profession, the silver dove of the working women's union, a group of independant whores and escorts.
During her more clandestine dealings however, she wears an incognito set of clothes, featuring a tight pair of dark green greaves, soft and comfy boots that reach up her shins, a basic white shirt, a dark red vest with a handful of pockets, and a dark green hooded cloak that matches her greaves. On top of this, she wears a belt with plenty of pouches to carry her tools of the trade. Finally, a dark maroon scarf is worn over her pale features to hide her identity.
For weaponry, she carries a pair of knives, hidden away for her own protection, however she has also been seen with a seemingly basic bow from time to time. On her belt, however, she hides a small hand-crossbow, and just enough bolts to get her out of a tight spot.
Her tool belt contains many tricks of the trade, including lockpicks, a glass cutter, smoke bombs for a quick get away, and even a handful of stink bombs.
Registered: Jan 12, 2019 23:02:23 GMT -8
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Bluebirch
Jan 15, 2019 18:07:48 GMT -8
via mobile
Post by Fiona Blythe on Jan 15, 2019 18:07:48 GMT -8
Curse the rain. Its meant to be relaxing, not irritating. Of course, that would be the difference between listening to it and being in it! It would still take her a little while to clean her boots…
At least the rain has its benefits, like being a curtain around her. Even without the scarf over her mouth, she would still remain unseen and unidentified. Just the way she likes.
The woman follows until they reach the carriage, then she hunkers down again to formulate a plan. She doesn't want to go too far out of town, as she had left her things at the Inn. Hmmm… Then her luck changes for the better! She may not need to leave town after all, as she watches the guards leave the carriage behind. Now is her chance…
She scurries out of cover and straight for the carriage, one hand in one of the pockets of her belt, searching for her lockpicks. Never leave home without them! With just one quick look around, she sets off to work.
Thankfully her slender, dexterous fingers are able to pick the lock, one she's genuinely surprised about how easy it was to pick. Either they are getting braver with their locks, or she is getting better. Either way, she's happy.
“Oi,” she whispers as she opens the door, then gestures to the man, then out the door. “C'mon, madman. Out you come, we don't have much time.”
She hops down and gestures for him to follow. “Close the door and follow me.” With that, she heads into the night, making sure he can follow her.
A turn here, a turn there, a small climb or two to get out of the mud, helping the injured man along the way, she settles down and makes sure they aren't followed.
“Now… don't make me regret pulling you out of there, sir,” she says without looking to the man. “But something isn't right here. Talk, give me everything you know, and I'll make sure you aren't followed while you run off. They may still find us if you stay in town, even here.”
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The Isran Empire
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 105
Registered: May 23, 2017 16:46:10 GMT -8
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Post by The Isran Empire on Jan 15, 2019 18:40:22 GMT -8
Even with fingers slippery from the rain and stiff from the cold, the skilled thief made short work of the lock. After just a few moment's work, it clicked open. The man inside was still hooded, and his hands were bound behind his back. He shrank away as the door opened, but straightened up again once he heard Fiona's voice. As she removed the hood and cut through the cord tying his wrists, he blinked at her in the dim light. He opened his mouth to ask a question, but thought better of it and followed her hurriedly out the door.
As the pair ducked into a damp side alley between a butcher shop and an orphanage, he squinted at her in the darkness.
"You," he wheezed through broken teeth. "You were in the inn. You're that fancy woman, aren't you?"
He choked and coughed at her interrogation, staring into the sky for a moment in an effort to let the rain wash the blood from his face.
"I am...I was a handler. I work for the Isran government, in a secret project. We were making...monsters. Weapons. We called them Locusts. We were transporting three of them tonight, moving them from the facility where we make them to a secure location to be tested underwater. They don't breathe, you see. They don't breathe, they don't feel, they don't think. All they know is hunger and death. We were transporting them in a carriage, heavily guarded and under the cover of night. Well...I guess a local band of bandits got a tip that the guards were moving their captured boss and got the wrong carriage. They attacked us in force, slaughtered us...there must have been fifty of them. They broke into the carriage, cracked open the caskets...and let those things out."
He shuddered, hands shaking. Taking a deep breath, he steadied himself and continued.
"I hid. I was lying in a ditch in the dark, and I watched them do it. They realized pretty quick that it wasn't their boss as soon as the caskets were opened. The bandits, they managed to kill one of the Locusts. Just one! In return...I think I saw at least a couple dozen of the bandits torn to shreds before they fled. I ran. I'm not proud of it, but I ran away. I think those Locusts saw me, though. They saw me, or heard me, or something. They followed me. Oh god, they followed me, and now they're coming here..."
The man began to whimper, clutching onto Fiona for support and comfort. He was shaking like a leaf head to toe, far more than if he was just cold.
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Fiona Blythe
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 107
Age: 25
Physical Description: ==================================================
Quite attractive, which is quite the benefit of her public profession. High cheek bones, a sharp jawline and thin nose, soft cheeks, and a stunning outlook about her.
Her eyes are a warm green, and her skin on the paler side, but it is hard to tell if it's natural or just well applied makeup until closer inspection. Her hair drops down past her shoulders, and a dark, aged timber brown.
Catching one's eye is her goal, afterall.
She is of medium height and wonderfully maintained build, toned but soft where it matters.
Clothes and Equipment: ==================================================
In public, she can be seen wearing expensive dresses, low cut at the front, and perfectly tailored. As well as her modest jewellery, she wears a specific broach worn by those of her profession, the silver dove of the working women's union, a group of independant whores and escorts.
During her more clandestine dealings however, she wears an incognito set of clothes, featuring a tight pair of dark green greaves, soft and comfy boots that reach up her shins, a basic white shirt, a dark red vest with a handful of pockets, and a dark green hooded cloak that matches her greaves. On top of this, she wears a belt with plenty of pouches to carry her tools of the trade. Finally, a dark maroon scarf is worn over her pale features to hide her identity.
For weaponry, she carries a pair of knives, hidden away for her own protection, however she has also been seen with a seemingly basic bow from time to time. On her belt, however, she hides a small hand-crossbow, and just enough bolts to get her out of a tight spot.
Her tool belt contains many tricks of the trade, including lockpicks, a glass cutter, smoke bombs for a quick get away, and even a handful of stink bombs.
Registered: Jan 12, 2019 23:02:23 GMT -8
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Bluebirch
Jan 15, 2019 20:37:27 GMT -8
via mobile
Post by Fiona Blythe on Jan 15, 2019 20:37:27 GMT -8
“I don't know what youre talking about. What inn?” Damn. He is either really perceptive, or she had let something slip. Her scarf was still over her nose and mouth, so her face couldn't have given her away. Perhaps it was her eyes. Regardless, she decides to let it slide.
“A monster,” she says through narrowed eyes. “And an experiment gone wrong. Isn't this the premise to all of the horror stories and silly little fiction books?” she asks in a cold voice. “I swear, people just don't understand. Regardless, there is nothing you can do now, nor anything you can do about making those things.”
She taps her clothed chin in thought. “This really hurts my plans, if true,” she muses quietly. “But considering those bastards seemed top dog in the law circuit, their savage beating of you, and their general disposition… I'm inclined to believe you.”
Her arm pushes against the man as he clutches at her for safety. “Get off,” she grunts. “Get a hold of yourself. You haven't done anything wrong except running. Now, you have two options,” she says, raising two gloved fingers. “One. Run away, as far as you can, as fast as you can. That's the easy path, but will get people killed.”
She then takes a deep breath. “Or stand and fight these things. Bandits are untrained, undisciplined thugs, of course they were slaughtered. Now, you seem trained, as do their black wearing strangers. So, if you were to bait the monsters to them, perhaps the four of you can kill the last two.”
Then she sighs heavily, feeling a bit of guilt creep in. If they failed and she didn't help, people would still die, like that innocent see lad at the inn. Since when does she have a conscience? Well, since her plans would go wrong if the four would fail and she would likely be dead anyway.
“Five,” she corrects herself with a grumpy sigh. “So, are you going to run? Or try and redeem yourself, and hopefully not get me killed?”
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The Isran Empire
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 105
Registered: May 23, 2017 16:46:10 GMT -8
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Post by The Isran Empire on Jan 15, 2019 21:23:02 GMT -8
The man stared at Fiona, eyes wide in the darkness. As she shoved him away, he slumped weakly against the wall, holding on to the stones for support. He hesitated, coughing and wheezing for a moment before speaking.
"I-I'm going to take the first option," he said, his voice shaking. "I'm sorry, but I can't. I can't go with them. You saw what they did to me. And now that I've told you, it's going to be even worse. They'll throw me in Ettingers, lock me away until I really do go crazy...or worse, they'll turn me into one of them. I can't do that, I won't! I'm sorry, I'm very sorry, but I gotta run. Good-bye, thanks for your help, but I'm running."
Without another word, he turned and fled, splashing down the alley as fast as his legs would take him. Meanwhile, outside the alley, Fiona would hear voices approaching.
"How could you just leave it unlocked? You had one job, Galanga! One job, that's it! Lock up the prisoner, is it that hard?"
"I told you, I locked it! You saw the ropes, they'd been cut! Someone helped that yellow-bellied coward escape, and now it'll be our hides on the line if we don't bring him back! At least we got lucky with that one locust, huh?"
"Yeah, unless that one escapes too. Come on, shut up. We'll never catch him if you keep running your mouth like that."
The splash of heavy boots foretold the approach of the three men, stepping closer and closer to the alley with every passing second. From the sounds of it, they were definitely not on their way to a tea party.
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Fiona Blythe
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 107
Age: 25
Physical Description: ==================================================
Quite attractive, which is quite the benefit of her public profession. High cheek bones, a sharp jawline and thin nose, soft cheeks, and a stunning outlook about her.
Her eyes are a warm green, and her skin on the paler side, but it is hard to tell if it's natural or just well applied makeup until closer inspection. Her hair drops down past her shoulders, and a dark, aged timber brown.
Catching one's eye is her goal, afterall.
She is of medium height and wonderfully maintained build, toned but soft where it matters.
Clothes and Equipment: ==================================================
In public, she can be seen wearing expensive dresses, low cut at the front, and perfectly tailored. As well as her modest jewellery, she wears a specific broach worn by those of her profession, the silver dove of the working women's union, a group of independant whores and escorts.
During her more clandestine dealings however, she wears an incognito set of clothes, featuring a tight pair of dark green greaves, soft and comfy boots that reach up her shins, a basic white shirt, a dark red vest with a handful of pockets, and a dark green hooded cloak that matches her greaves. On top of this, she wears a belt with plenty of pouches to carry her tools of the trade. Finally, a dark maroon scarf is worn over her pale features to hide her identity.
For weaponry, she carries a pair of knives, hidden away for her own protection, however she has also been seen with a seemingly basic bow from time to time. On her belt, however, she hides a small hand-crossbow, and just enough bolts to get her out of a tight spot.
Her tool belt contains many tricks of the trade, including lockpicks, a glass cutter, smoke bombs for a quick get away, and even a handful of stink bombs.
Registered: Jan 12, 2019 23:02:23 GMT -8
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Bluebirch
Jan 15, 2019 21:36:32 GMT -8
via mobile
Post by Fiona Blythe on Jan 15, 2019 21:36:32 GMT -8
Fiona quickly grabs the man's collar and gives it a firm tug. For such a relatively smaller woman, she had some real strength in those arms, must be from the more unconventional paths she finds through the city.
“Wrong answer, sir,” she says as she pushes him back against the wall. “If you're so scared of those goons, then just you and me will kill this last thing. One has already been killed, that means they can die.” She gives him another shove to make a point. “and after we kill it, without the three stooges in black, I'll help you disappear. Fake your death, or just make it seem like you've never existed. You'll have to trust me on this, Mouse, I've done it before I can do it again.”
She puts her hands on her perfectly sculpted hips. “Besides. If you were willing to run, there's not much holding you back from just not existing and running off to greener pastures. Tell your buddies if you want once you're gone, I won't stop you. But for now, stand your ground, and I'll help save your life, regardless on if you want to ruin the efforts afterwards. Now, are you with me, or are you going to let the small, weak woman besmirch your tough name by telling everyone that you ran off while she fought and saved the village by herself?”
Her head snaps to the side at the first hint of a voice. Without saying a thing, she instinctively grabs the man and pulls him into a tight spot behind some old, wooden crates that had overgrown with moss and rot through the years after being abandoned. She covers his mouth and pushes him down low, making sure he doesn't make a peep, then… she listens…
“Two down,” she whispers exceptionally quietly into the man's ear. “One left. With the other captured, we can kill it easier, and these creatures will never be loose on the population again.”
She keeps a keen eye through one of the wooden boards as she whispers, making sure he can't reply with her hand over his mouth. “Stupid scientists… never mess with nature…”
Now… she waits for the blackcoats to leave, her dagger ready in her free hand and her feet positioned to leap.
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The Isran Empire
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 105
Registered: May 23, 2017 16:46:10 GMT -8
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Post by The Isran Empire on Jan 15, 2019 22:20:40 GMT -8
The man let out a strangled HURK as Fiona grabbed him by the collar and dragged him back from his escape. He groaned as she shoved him against the wall, protesting every time she gave him another push. When she stepped back, he slumped down, looking up at her with swollen, watery eyes.
"You're not giving me much of a choice here, are you? You just don't get it. You can't stop a Locust, you don't have the gear or the training. You barely even know what a Locust is! You can't kill them, not you. Didn't you hear how it took a whole gang of bandits to even take down one? They chopped the thing to pieces, and they still lost almost half their men! I'm perfectly fine with having my name besmirched if it means not having to face one of those things with just you and me! We work in teams, with specialized gear, you can't just go out and kill it like it's a rabbit. Also, my name isn't Mouse! It's- mmmph!"
As she clapped a hand over his mouth and dragged him behind the crates, the voices got closer and closer to the alley until they stopped in front of it.
"What's the hold-up?" said one of them. The second shushed him, and there was a pause. After a tense, silent moment, the second man spoke.
"I thought I heard something," he said. "Thought maybe it was hiding in that alley there."
"Don't be silly," said the third. "Locusts don't hide. Must have been a rat, or a mouse or something. Come on, let's search this way. By the way, how's your wife doing?"
"Shut up," said the second man. "We've got more important things to worry about than your unhealthy obsession with my wife. Let's get moving, and quit talking."
The trio continued on down the street, boots thumping as they jogged down the waterlogged road. A bolt of lightning silhouetted them in the street as three dark, towering figures vanishing into the darkness.
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Fiona Blythe
Dedicated
Roleplay posts: 107
Age: 25
Physical Description: ==================================================
Quite attractive, which is quite the benefit of her public profession. High cheek bones, a sharp jawline and thin nose, soft cheeks, and a stunning outlook about her.
Her eyes are a warm green, and her skin on the paler side, but it is hard to tell if it's natural or just well applied makeup until closer inspection. Her hair drops down past her shoulders, and a dark, aged timber brown.
Catching one's eye is her goal, afterall.
She is of medium height and wonderfully maintained build, toned but soft where it matters.
Clothes and Equipment: ==================================================
In public, she can be seen wearing expensive dresses, low cut at the front, and perfectly tailored. As well as her modest jewellery, she wears a specific broach worn by those of her profession, the silver dove of the working women's union, a group of independant whores and escorts.
During her more clandestine dealings however, she wears an incognito set of clothes, featuring a tight pair of dark green greaves, soft and comfy boots that reach up her shins, a basic white shirt, a dark red vest with a handful of pockets, and a dark green hooded cloak that matches her greaves. On top of this, she wears a belt with plenty of pouches to carry her tools of the trade. Finally, a dark maroon scarf is worn over her pale features to hide her identity.
For weaponry, she carries a pair of knives, hidden away for her own protection, however she has also been seen with a seemingly basic bow from time to time. On her belt, however, she hides a small hand-crossbow, and just enough bolts to get her out of a tight spot.
Her tool belt contains many tricks of the trade, including lockpicks, a glass cutter, smoke bombs for a quick get away, and even a handful of stink bombs.
Registered: Jan 12, 2019 23:02:23 GMT -8
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Bluebirch
Jan 15, 2019 22:47:30 GMT -8
via mobile
Post by Fiona Blythe on Jan 15, 2019 22:47:30 GMT -8
The woman uncovers his mouth once they were out of earshot, then jabs him with a finger. “No, I get it, I can do it alone, I'm not arguing with you there.” Then she swivels the extended finger back down the alleyway. “But they're equipped for it. So, like I said before, we should really bait the locust into running into them and let them deal with it. I don't care if they die, they accepted that risk. I do care if the townsfolk die, myself included.”
She stands up again and pokes her head out to make sure the coast is clear, cursing herself for coming out here, but now things have fallen into place with her stuck in the middle. Might as well look for a way out instead of wallowing in regret.
“If we play our cards right,” Fiona says as she steps out into the open again. “We won't have to fight at all, just let the fellas that are specially sent out to get it, who apparently have already captured the second, do the fighting.”
She gestures for him to follow her. “They'll keep hunting you, you know,” she says as she starts to walk carefully down the alley. “They won't stop unless they think you're dead. Think about it, Mouse. I can offer you freedom here. And maybe the name of a healer that specialises in teeth, after that beating.”
The woman turns and gestures outward. “Gonna do this with, or without you. All you have to decide, Mousey, is if you want part of the glory and personal reward, or live a life of fear of the empire.”
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