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 Feb 2, 2019 21:13:05 GMT -8
 A Murky PondBuried in northern forests of Isra sits a large, deep pool of water. The cloudy water makes it impossible to see even a couple feet under the surface, making it impossible to judge how deep it could be. Vague, ominous signs are posted around the pond, warning travelers that it is tainted and that they should stay away and avoid touching the water at all costs. A crest at the bottom of each sign proclaims them to have been posted by the Isran Guard, in the name of public safety. |
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Helena Sigrid Sattler
Established
Roleplay posts: 37
Age: 27
Physical Description: Helena is a tall woman, standing at six-foot-two, and has a strong, toned physique from years of training. She has long blonde hair, often tied into a braid, icy blue eyes, and a pale complexion. Her features are rather pretty, but she sports her fair share of scars, most hidden under her armour except for one that intersects her right eyebrow, and one small scar on the left side of her bottom lip.
Clothes and Equipment: Helena was brought up a commoner, so when outside of armour she doesn't bother with fancy attires that her wages could afford. Instead, she keeps to a regular old green tunic, one her mother had stitched Northern patterns in years prior, and a pair of thick, light blue trousers. Of course, even in her commoner garb, she keeps it clean (unless she's been indulging in her homely hobbies.)
However, as an esteemed sergeant of the guard, she is often seen in her set of plate armour. The armour is well made, very protective, but not overly flashy. As with most guardsman, her armour's look is fairly standard. No intricate designs, no flashy gems or trim, but instead just the standard issue lines and patterns across the metal work. The set is complete with a visored barbute helmet, with two eye holes and a small cross cut into one cheek.
The armour sports a tabard, designed with Isran colours and the nation's crest. It splits at the belt and runs down he greaves' thighs, revealing the chainmail skirts in between.
However, as a sergeant, she is granted just a little of her own touch. The trim around the neck of her breast plate sits a fur coif, one sported mostly by the handful of guards of Northern decent holding a high enough rank to get away with it.
For weapons, Helena has spent many years training with many different varieties, finding what suits her, but also for survival on the battlefield. Her philosophy is that, no matter how good a fighter you are, you can still be disarmed, so you should know how to fight with anything.
So, her primary choice in weapon is a longsword, sheathed on one side. As backup, she carries a kite shield on her back, and a one handed axe on her other side.
Allegiances: Isra and the Empress
Player's online availability : Somewhat available.
Registered: May 7, 2019 17:15:04 GMT -8
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Post by Helena Sigrid Sattler on May 10, 2019 5:13:33 GMT -8
Of all the assignments, fighting bandits, patrolling troublesome neighbourhoods, escorting dignitaries, Sergeant Helena Sigrid Sattler finds herself visiting the same pond scum infested, bog-like watering hole she had been to several months prior in order to put up those little signs after someone had lost an arm to the possibly infectious water.
Why her? That is a question for the powers that be. Helena had surmised they wanted someone who knew the area to survey it once more. As for why it needed attention, she had been given three reasons. Some of the locals had told the local guardsmen of a monster lurking around these parts, then it was something about two children going missing (who were found safe and sound rather quickly, but with tall tales to tell), and finally something about an eery light and odd sounds at night.
All in all? Likely local hoodlums deciding to mess around in the cordoned off area, where they were likely not to be caught drinking or peddling illegal items. A waste of time really, not when the local guards could do it.
But, regardless, she has a duty to fulfill. Riding in from the south, flanked by three other riders, the armoured woman arrives on time and swiftly dismounts near the border of the cordoned off area.
"Okay," she says, taking off her helmet to let her blonde hair, tied into a neat braid behind her head, breath. "Ulrich, Johanson, check the perimeter signs," she says, pointing along the border. "Look for any signs of vandals or stupid kids messing with them. Reilly, head to the barracks in town, see what the locals have to say."
Two of the other soldiers, a man and woman both with standard armour and a sword and shield each look to each other before one lets out a sigh. "Guess you drew the short straw today, Sarge?" The woman, Johanson, says as she climbs off her horse.
"Apparently," Helena replies with a small smirk. "But misery loves company. Get to it, the sooner we find these hoodlums or bog monsters or whatevers, we can go home."
The pair nods and set off to check the perimeter while the last guardsman, a bald man with a halberd in hand, waits his turn. "I doubt we'll hear any different from them than what we've been told," he says, a little annoyed at the assignment. "But I'll see what I can do. Hopefully they have something knew. Be back soon, marm." With that, he's off.
Helena ties the horses to one of the nearby fence posts and peers into the thickets around her, hands on her hips. "Right. Let's see what all the worry is about." With that, she pops her helmet back on her head, the visor up, and sets off to check out the pond, a standard procedure so far. At least she'd be home in time for supper. The neighbour said she'd bring over some fresh Shepherd's pie, and Helena couldn't wait.
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Post by Strangers and Travelers on May 10, 2019 20:32:53 GMT -8
The incident of the lost arm really had been an odd one. The infection had set in very quickly, and the unfortunate man had been incoherent from fever. The arm had been amputated at the behest of a strange doctor in black, whom nobody seemed to know. As the man healed, he'd become more lucid, and had started to talk about how there was some sort of creature in the water that had bitten him. The strange doctor had immediately deemed him entirely insane, the man was dragged off to Ettinger's before getting a chance to even say good-bye to his loved ones. Nobody had heard from the man again, and after many inquiries, the family was told that he'd died of infection in the asylum. Nobody ever saw the doctor either, and nobody ever seemed to be able to agree on what he'd looked like. A strange matter indeed. As Helena approached the pool, she'd see that the signs were in poor repair. Several had fallen down, and the few that remained standing had been painted over with some very rude but amusingly alliterative slogans. However, unless she wanted to know exactly what various townsfolk allegedly did with their goats, then there was little to be learned from the signs aside from the fact that the villagers had little regard for anything with a "Property of the Isran Empire" stamp. Getting closer to the edge of the pond, Helena would hear a soft scraping sound, like metal on stone. As she approached, she'd see a strange-looking figure crouching underneath a tree. The figure was shaped like a man, but wore a rather odd two-pointed hood and a long cloak. His face was hidden by a white mask, under which only darkness could be seen. He seemed to be working on something, scraping away at what looked like a large glass marble. Noticing Helena, he looked up at her, and the points of the hood stood up straight like a rabbit's ears. "Why hello there," he said, his voice entirely flat and devoid of emotion. "A sergeant of the guard, all the way out here. Goodness, who did you annoy to get this sort of job?"  An odd sort of man |
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Helena Sigrid Sattler
Established
Roleplay posts: 37
Age: 27
Physical Description: Helena is a tall woman, standing at six-foot-two, and has a strong, toned physique from years of training. She has long blonde hair, often tied into a braid, icy blue eyes, and a pale complexion. Her features are rather pretty, but she sports her fair share of scars, most hidden under her armour except for one that intersects her right eyebrow, and one small scar on the left side of her bottom lip.
Clothes and Equipment: Helena was brought up a commoner, so when outside of armour she doesn't bother with fancy attires that her wages could afford. Instead, she keeps to a regular old green tunic, one her mother had stitched Northern patterns in years prior, and a pair of thick, light blue trousers. Of course, even in her commoner garb, she keeps it clean (unless she's been indulging in her homely hobbies.)
However, as an esteemed sergeant of the guard, she is often seen in her set of plate armour. The armour is well made, very protective, but not overly flashy. As with most guardsman, her armour's look is fairly standard. No intricate designs, no flashy gems or trim, but instead just the standard issue lines and patterns across the metal work. The set is complete with a visored barbute helmet, with two eye holes and a small cross cut into one cheek.
The armour sports a tabard, designed with Isran colours and the nation's crest. It splits at the belt and runs down he greaves' thighs, revealing the chainmail skirts in between.
However, as a sergeant, she is granted just a little of her own touch. The trim around the neck of her breast plate sits a fur coif, one sported mostly by the handful of guards of Northern decent holding a high enough rank to get away with it.
For weapons, Helena has spent many years training with many different varieties, finding what suits her, but also for survival on the battlefield. Her philosophy is that, no matter how good a fighter you are, you can still be disarmed, so you should know how to fight with anything.
So, her primary choice in weapon is a longsword, sheathed on one side. As backup, she carries a kite shield on her back, and a one handed axe on her other side.
Allegiances: Isra and the Empress
Player's online availability : Somewhat available.
Registered: May 7, 2019 17:15:04 GMT -8
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Post by Helena Sigrid Sattler on May 11, 2019 6:32:02 GMT -8
Helena wasn't privy to the exact details or the amputation, it wasn't exactly in her wheelhouse not her personal interest, and all she really knew was what she had skimmed over in the file for this particular place. Of course, that file had grown large but with mostly theories, so going too deep into it was, and still is, largely a waste of time for the woman. She had the basics, that's all she really needed.
The guards woman tuts softly as the runs a gauntleted hand over one of the signs, completely defaced with insulting notes about one of the townsfolk's mothers, and several crudely painted phalluses all around it. "This should have been expected," she muses under her breath as she wraps her hands around the sides and yanks it from the tree it was nailed to. She turns it over and tuts again. "Oh well." She then tossed the defaced plank over her shoulder and continues on into the overgrowth, while making a mental note to have them all replaced.
Once she spots the figure though, her hand immediately goes to sit on the pommel of her blade, ready to yank the two hander out at a moment's notice. It had become second nature to her now, to see a hooded, dark figure in a place they shouldn't be, wearing black, and holding an odd shape were all recipes for an unfortunate encounter.
"I've been asking myself the same question," the woman says in an even tone. "The question is, why are you here? I understand they may be hard to read with all the penises drawn on them, but the signs around here indicate that this area is off limits. I have to ask that you move along and stick to safer areas, friend. The pond and water supply around here aren't healthy. It's for your safety, of course."
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Post by Strangers and Travelers on May 11, 2019 14:29:38 GMT -8
The points of the man's hood flopped back down, and he fixed Helena with a blank, eyeless stare. He tilted his head off to the side like a curious pigeon, contemplating her in silence for several seconds before responding. "If the signs are to be believed," he said finally, "then the pond isn't nearly as hazardous to one's health as simply sitting on a chair that Mrs. Buckenweld from the village has sat on. Besides, who's to say that it's dangerous to everyone? What is health, but an opinion? A dream? Who decided that a cough is unhealthy? If you're coughing, that just means you aren't choking to death. Isn't that a good thing?" He held out his gloved hand, long pointed fingers held flat. A shiny glass orb sat in his palm, glittering in the few sunbeams that managed to find their way through the canopy. All of a sudden, the orb swiveled, revealing itself to be an immaculately crafted glass eyeball. The eye stared at Helena, unblinking. It turned in the man's hand, following her wherever she moved. "Come now," he said. "Sit. Have some tea. You like tea, don't you Helena? There's really nothing all that dangerous about the pond. I suppose you could drown in it, but the same could be said for a puddle. Do you like cream and sugar?" Reaching into the pocket of his coat, he produced a full tea set, complete with a steaming teakettle, two porcelain teacups, saucers, and a small bowl of sugar cubes. He placed them carefully on the ground, gesturing for Helena to take a seat on a small patch of moss.
 A most curious trinket
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Helena Sigrid Sattler
Established
Roleplay posts: 37
Age: 27
Physical Description: Helena is a tall woman, standing at six-foot-two, and has a strong, toned physique from years of training. She has long blonde hair, often tied into a braid, icy blue eyes, and a pale complexion. Her features are rather pretty, but she sports her fair share of scars, most hidden under her armour except for one that intersects her right eyebrow, and one small scar on the left side of her bottom lip.
Clothes and Equipment: Helena was brought up a commoner, so when outside of armour she doesn't bother with fancy attires that her wages could afford. Instead, she keeps to a regular old green tunic, one her mother had stitched Northern patterns in years prior, and a pair of thick, light blue trousers. Of course, even in her commoner garb, she keeps it clean (unless she's been indulging in her homely hobbies.)
However, as an esteemed sergeant of the guard, she is often seen in her set of plate armour. The armour is well made, very protective, but not overly flashy. As with most guardsman, her armour's look is fairly standard. No intricate designs, no flashy gems or trim, but instead just the standard issue lines and patterns across the metal work. The set is complete with a visored barbute helmet, with two eye holes and a small cross cut into one cheek.
The armour sports a tabard, designed with Isran colours and the nation's crest. It splits at the belt and runs down he greaves' thighs, revealing the chainmail skirts in between.
However, as a sergeant, she is granted just a little of her own touch. The trim around the neck of her breast plate sits a fur coif, one sported mostly by the handful of guards of Northern decent holding a high enough rank to get away with it.
For weapons, Helena has spent many years training with many different varieties, finding what suits her, but also for survival on the battlefield. Her philosophy is that, no matter how good a fighter you are, you can still be disarmed, so you should know how to fight with anything.
So, her primary choice in weapon is a longsword, sheathed on one side. As backup, she carries a kite shield on her back, and a one handed axe on her other side.
Allegiances: Isra and the Empress
Player's online availability : Somewhat available.
Registered: May 7, 2019 17:15:04 GMT -8
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Post by Helena Sigrid Sattler on May 12, 2019 2:13:31 GMT -8
What is health but an opinion? Helena had no time, nor want to join in any sort of philosophical debates over the understanding of health. It is, for all intents and purposes, a waste of breath. "I'm not a healer," she says, simply enough. "And I'm not a philosopher, friend, so these debates are wasted on me. I'm here to enforce the signs."
Then she looks to the eye and her shoulders deflate a little as she rolls her eyes. Here we go, some sort of magic trinket is involved, just what she needed today. She could be off doing something much more important, where her skills would be of much better use, but no, here she is wasting time with some crackpot, likely gone mad by the contaminated water. Joy of joys.
"No, no tea," she says, skipping over the fact it had just come out of nowhere, entirely because she knows this type. Most of the things they do, or are capable of, are incomprehensible, and that usually puts the tall woman on edge. "Thank you for the offer, but my mother always said not to accept drinks from strangers. Now, I have to insist you move along. You, your eye trinket, and your tea set." She stands up straight and tall, hand still on the pommel of her sword. "I don't know who you are, but you're in Isran land, and my jurisdiction. This area is off limits, regardless of perceived threats, or lack thereof." Lack thereof. Saying that always makes Helena feel smart.
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Post by Strangers and Travelers on May 12, 2019 12:35:31 GMT -8
The points of the man's hood drooped low as she refused his tea. Picking up the tea set, he dropped them all back into his pocket, where they clinked and clattered and splashed. Tea cleared away, he looked back up at Helena, slowly getting to his feet.
"Your mother must have been an awfully dull woman," he said. "Don't you know that the best drinks are the ones shared with strangers? Goodness, I can't begin to imagine how many fun stories I have that began with a drink with a stranger. At least two...I think. Maybe just one. Also, please forgive me, Helena. I didn't introduce myself. I'm Foxgloves. Now you know who I am, so we're not strangers. Does that satisfy your mother's rule? Did your mother have any rules about lying to friends?"
He reached into his pocket once more, pulling out a long fishing rod that most certainly should not have been able to fit within the confines of his coat. Giving it a deft flick, he cast a line into the pool. A moment later, the line twitched, and he pulled a rather chubby carp from the murky depths. Holding it up to the light, he offered the fish to Helena.
"This carp looks very happy and well-fed, don't you think?" he asked. "Surely, if the pond was as poisonous as you say, you'd find nothing but mudfish...but what do I know? I'm no naturalist. I'm simply a salesman. I must say, though...fishing really is quite relaxing, once you get the hang of it. You ought to try it sometime, Helena. You seem on edge."
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Helena Sigrid Sattler
Established
Roleplay posts: 37
Age: 27
Physical Description: Helena is a tall woman, standing at six-foot-two, and has a strong, toned physique from years of training. She has long blonde hair, often tied into a braid, icy blue eyes, and a pale complexion. Her features are rather pretty, but she sports her fair share of scars, most hidden under her armour except for one that intersects her right eyebrow, and one small scar on the left side of her bottom lip.
Clothes and Equipment: Helena was brought up a commoner, so when outside of armour she doesn't bother with fancy attires that her wages could afford. Instead, she keeps to a regular old green tunic, one her mother had stitched Northern patterns in years prior, and a pair of thick, light blue trousers. Of course, even in her commoner garb, she keeps it clean (unless she's been indulging in her homely hobbies.)
However, as an esteemed sergeant of the guard, she is often seen in her set of plate armour. The armour is well made, very protective, but not overly flashy. As with most guardsman, her armour's look is fairly standard. No intricate designs, no flashy gems or trim, but instead just the standard issue lines and patterns across the metal work. The set is complete with a visored barbute helmet, with two eye holes and a small cross cut into one cheek.
The armour sports a tabard, designed with Isran colours and the nation's crest. It splits at the belt and runs down he greaves' thighs, revealing the chainmail skirts in between.
However, as a sergeant, she is granted just a little of her own touch. The trim around the neck of her breast plate sits a fur coif, one sported mostly by the handful of guards of Northern decent holding a high enough rank to get away with it.
For weapons, Helena has spent many years training with many different varieties, finding what suits her, but also for survival on the battlefield. Her philosophy is that, no matter how good a fighter you are, you can still be disarmed, so you should know how to fight with anything.
So, her primary choice in weapon is a longsword, sheathed on one side. As backup, she carries a kite shield on her back, and a one handed axe on her other side.
Allegiances: Isra and the Empress
Player's online availability : Somewhat available.
Registered: May 7, 2019 17:15:04 GMT -8
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Post by Helena Sigrid Sattler on May 12, 2019 19:31:26 GMT -8
Helena raises an eyebrow at the mention of her mother, something she disliked perpetrators talking about, but she keeps her cool and lets it go.
"I do drink with strangers, but I do not accept drinks from strangers. There is a key difference there." Then she shifts. "Why am I even debating this. Mr. Foxgloves, I am not here to enjoy tea, or fanciful talk, or even to see the sights nor your magic tricks," she says, getting a little annoyed at these antics. "And I am no liar, to friends or others. I don't know if this pond is dangerous or not, all I know is that people far above my pay grade have deemed it dangerous."
She puts up a hand to refuse the fish, even if her curiosity did peak with the presentation of his fishing rod. Quite amazing, but she cant lose focus now. "If the Carp is… happy… it's because he's been left alone thanks to this being a restricted area."
Her eyes narrow a little. "Now, are you going to move along to peddle your wares elsewhere?" She asks before lowering her visor, finding the conversation to be a bit too personal. Usually, when she's not doing her job, she would have enjoyed such a fanciful conversation, but not today. "Or am I going to need to move you along myself? Mr. Foxgloves, I am usually a patient woman, but you are trying that patience. I have been ordered to ensure this place remains off limits, and you being here is an illegal activity, however If you move along now I will forget you were ever here. If not, I will be forced to place you under arrest, and that's a lot of paperwork for the both of us."
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Post by Strangers and Travelers on May 12, 2019 21:51:59 GMT -8
Foxgloves carefully unhooked the carp from his line and tossed it back into the pond, where it vanished into the cloudy water within moments. Stuffing the fishing pole back into his pocket, he peered into the pool before taking a couple steps away. "You would arrest me?" he asked, voice as flat and unperturbed as ever. "But we're friends. You said so yourself. Is that how you treat your friends? Goodness, I'd hate to see how you treat a stranger. Still, in respect for our friendship, I'll go away. I wouldn't want you to get a hand cramp filling out paperwork. Hand cramps are awful...or so I've been told. I don't suffer from them, myself." He began to walk away from the pond, his pointed shoes treading gently over the grass as he passed Helena. Once he'd gotten a few feet past her, he stopped, turning back. "You're a good soldier, aren't you," he said. "You listen to commands and do as you're told without question. No wonder you've risen to sergeant. Not even wondering why you've been sent to look after such a dull little pond. You remind me of the wooden soldiers I had when I was young, always happy to stand at attention wherever I wanted them to." He reached into his pocket once more, but thought better of it and withdrew his hand. "That was a lie," he said. "I'm terribly sorry, that's no way for me to treat a friend. I never had wooden soldiers." Meanwhile, there was a splash from the pool as a bloated hand broke the surface.
 Steadfast, loyal, and entirely absent from Foxgloves' life |
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Helena Sigrid Sattler
Established
Roleplay posts: 37
Age: 27
Physical Description: Helena is a tall woman, standing at six-foot-two, and has a strong, toned physique from years of training. She has long blonde hair, often tied into a braid, icy blue eyes, and a pale complexion. Her features are rather pretty, but she sports her fair share of scars, most hidden under her armour except for one that intersects her right eyebrow, and one small scar on the left side of her bottom lip.
Clothes and Equipment: Helena was brought up a commoner, so when outside of armour she doesn't bother with fancy attires that her wages could afford. Instead, she keeps to a regular old green tunic, one her mother had stitched Northern patterns in years prior, and a pair of thick, light blue trousers. Of course, even in her commoner garb, she keeps it clean (unless she's been indulging in her homely hobbies.)
However, as an esteemed sergeant of the guard, she is often seen in her set of plate armour. The armour is well made, very protective, but not overly flashy. As with most guardsman, her armour's look is fairly standard. No intricate designs, no flashy gems or trim, but instead just the standard issue lines and patterns across the metal work. The set is complete with a visored barbute helmet, with two eye holes and a small cross cut into one cheek.
The armour sports a tabard, designed with Isran colours and the nation's crest. It splits at the belt and runs down he greaves' thighs, revealing the chainmail skirts in between.
However, as a sergeant, she is granted just a little of her own touch. The trim around the neck of her breast plate sits a fur coif, one sported mostly by the handful of guards of Northern decent holding a high enough rank to get away with it.
For weapons, Helena has spent many years training with many different varieties, finding what suits her, but also for survival on the battlefield. Her philosophy is that, no matter how good a fighter you are, you can still be disarmed, so you should know how to fight with anything.
So, her primary choice in weapon is a longsword, sheathed on one side. As backup, she carries a kite shield on her back, and a one handed axe on her other side.
Allegiances: Isra and the Empress
Player's online availability : Somewhat available.
Registered: May 7, 2019 17:15:04 GMT -8
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Post by Helena Sigrid Sattler on May 13, 2019 7:36:14 GMT -8
"I would," Helena says, her voice muffled only slightly by her helmet. "If they are breaking the law, I can't make exceptions." As he steps past her, she's sure to step to the side, keeping a key eye on him just in case he decides to try something, and she's most certainly glad the crackpot didn't. "Thank you, Mr. Foxgloves," she says as he passes. "This makes it much easier for both of us."
She steps closer to where the mysterious creature had been sitting before, her curiosity pondering on why he had chosen here of all places. Perhaps because nobody is allowed to be here? But he doesn't seem like the type to care much about solitude, in fact Here a suspects he may very well thrive in social settings. Curious.
She turns her head as he begins to speak again, listening. Of course, she's heard it all before, by both sneering miscreants on the street and the angry bellows of drunken fools, locked in a cell to sober up. Everyone thinks she's just a mindless drone, doing what she's told, but the truth is that she does indeed ask questions, but only when something is important. This? Not so much. "It pays the bills." Is all she offers on that subject. Afterall, she had wooden soldiers too, and did the exact same thing with them.
Of course his revelation of the lie is just plain annoying to Helena. Now he's just like everyone else who thought they had a bone to pick with the guards and soldiers. Great.
What really gets her attention however, is the hand. As the splash, she looks back around, eyebrow raised, but both quickly shoot up when she sees a hand. "Ah shit, here we go." She quickly steps over to the pond's edge, none too plussed about having to deal with a body now, and unhooks the axe from her belt. Very carefully, she goes to hook the curved edge around the wrist and pull the hand over without touching it, if she can reach.
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Post by Strangers and Travelers on May 13, 2019 17:43:00 GMT -8
As Helena turned to deal with the hand, she'd hear a soft rustle of leaves behind her. When Foxgloves spoke next, he was high up in a tree, sitting on a branch that definitely looked too thin to support even a child's weight.
"I'm always glad to make someone else's life easier," he said, peering pensively at the potentially-poisonous pond from his precarious perch. "That's what I do, after all. I sell things, and people buy them because they make things easier. I provide a very valuable service, really. Some might even consider my wares to be art...but I don't know about all that. I can only make what I see. I'm not the creative sort, after all."
He reached into his seemingly bottomless pocket and pulled out a small chunk of wood and a sharp knife, and began whittling away. Small shavings of wood would fall from the branch, blowing in the wind to land on Helena. Meanwhile, as she hooked the hand and began to pull it towards shore, it would become clear that it was stuck on something. It felt as though the body were caught on a submerged tree, stuck as fast as though it were anchored to the bottom. From the looks of the hand, it seemed as though it had been in the pond for a very long time. The skin was bleached white, and had been visibly chewed and eaten away by fish.
All of a sudden, the hand grabbed onto the haft of the ax and pulled hard. Somehow, the bloated and fish-eaten limb still had a grip of iron, and seemed determined to jerk Helena into the pool if she didn't let go.
"Goodness me," said Foxgloves, watching the scene unfold from the safety of his perch. "Maybe fishing isn't all that relaxing after all. Perhaps you should try crochet instead."
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Helena Sigrid Sattler
Established
Roleplay posts: 37
Age: 27
Physical Description: Helena is a tall woman, standing at six-foot-two, and has a strong, toned physique from years of training. She has long blonde hair, often tied into a braid, icy blue eyes, and a pale complexion. Her features are rather pretty, but she sports her fair share of scars, most hidden under her armour except for one that intersects her right eyebrow, and one small scar on the left side of her bottom lip.
Clothes and Equipment: Helena was brought up a commoner, so when outside of armour she doesn't bother with fancy attires that her wages could afford. Instead, she keeps to a regular old green tunic, one her mother had stitched Northern patterns in years prior, and a pair of thick, light blue trousers. Of course, even in her commoner garb, she keeps it clean (unless she's been indulging in her homely hobbies.)
However, as an esteemed sergeant of the guard, she is often seen in her set of plate armour. The armour is well made, very protective, but not overly flashy. As with most guardsman, her armour's look is fairly standard. No intricate designs, no flashy gems or trim, but instead just the standard issue lines and patterns across the metal work. The set is complete with a visored barbute helmet, with two eye holes and a small cross cut into one cheek.
The armour sports a tabard, designed with Isran colours and the nation's crest. It splits at the belt and runs down he greaves' thighs, revealing the chainmail skirts in between.
However, as a sergeant, she is granted just a little of her own touch. The trim around the neck of her breast plate sits a fur coif, one sported mostly by the handful of guards of Northern decent holding a high enough rank to get away with it.
For weapons, Helena has spent many years training with many different varieties, finding what suits her, but also for survival on the battlefield. Her philosophy is that, no matter how good a fighter you are, you can still be disarmed, so you should know how to fight with anything.
So, her primary choice in weapon is a longsword, sheathed on one side. As backup, she carries a kite shield on her back, and a one handed axe on her other side.
Allegiances: Isra and the Empress
Player's online availability : Somewhat available.
Registered: May 7, 2019 17:15:04 GMT -8
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Post by Helena Sigrid Sattler on May 14, 2019 7:52:53 GMT -8
By now, Foxgloves had become a distant echo, her focus now on the hand she is trying to fish out if the pond. Something about selling art? Why would that help her in this situation? What a bizarre fellow. Either way, any thoughts of the masked goon were pushed aside like a box of fine plates in the way of an angry bull, the hand is a lot more important.
"C'mon," Helena grunts as the body snags on something, or at least she thought. "Great. Just fantastic." She digs in her heels and grabs the hilt with hands and begins to pull again. Once the first jerk tugs at her, her eyes flash open and she just barely has enough time to dig in and avoid being pulled under entirely. "Oh no, not today, zombie!" She calls out as she begins to pull harder. "This is MY axe!*
.
She leans back as she tugs, intent not to lose her weapon. It's standard issue, nothing overly fantastic about it, but she would be vulnerable in close quarters without it. This is actually the exact reason she doesn't bring her personal weapon to work, other than her greatsword, but that's much harder to lose.
"What is this, Foxgloves?!" The woman bellows as she tugs. All things point to him for the moment, considering he used magic or something just before, and the undead aren't exactly natural.
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Foxgloves
Committed
Roleplay posts: 77
Physical Description: Foxgloves is shaped like a man for the most part, tall and lanky. He wears a long coat with innumerable pockets and a hood with two long points that flop about like a rabbit's ears. The fingers of his gloves are long and thin, and his pointed boots are unadorned. Most notably, he wears a white mask, behind which only darkness can be seen. He is very light, as though stuffed nothing but cotton and cobwebs.
Registered: May 14, 2019 20:08:06 GMT -8
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Post by Foxgloves on May 14, 2019 20:29:35 GMT -8
Foxgloves shrugged, engrossed in his whittling. He glanced up for a moment, idly watching the scene unfold, but soon decided that his little project was more interesting and returned his attention to his work.
"I haven't the slightest idea," he said. "It's not my fault. You shouldn't jump to conclusions and blame people, you know. It's an awful habit, and you could hurt someone's feelings. It just looks to me like you're just exceptionally bad at fishing. Most people just pull up old boots or sunken branches, not corpses. I must say, though, it looks like the stories about the water are entirely unfounded. See, it can't possibly be all that unhealthy. That man is dead, and even he's still alive after soaking in that pool for who-knows-how-long. If a dead man can survive it, surely a living person would be just fine. At least, I think so. I'm no doctor, after all. I'm just a salesman. And a writer! Would you like to read the first draft of my novel?"
Meanwhile, Helena's years of training and heavy lifting paid off. With a twist and a jerk, she would manage to break the dead man's wrist with a sharp snap and wrench the ax from his grasp. The hand flopped wildly on its broken wrist, flailing and grasping at the air.
"I'd clean that ax if I were you," remarked Foxgloves. "Who knows what sort of diseases you might catch from that sort of thing. Certainly worse than rat-fever."
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Helena Sigrid Sattler
Established
Roleplay posts: 37
Age: 27
Physical Description: Helena is a tall woman, standing at six-foot-two, and has a strong, toned physique from years of training. She has long blonde hair, often tied into a braid, icy blue eyes, and a pale complexion. Her features are rather pretty, but she sports her fair share of scars, most hidden under her armour except for one that intersects her right eyebrow, and one small scar on the left side of her bottom lip.
Clothes and Equipment: Helena was brought up a commoner, so when outside of armour she doesn't bother with fancy attires that her wages could afford. Instead, she keeps to a regular old green tunic, one her mother had stitched Northern patterns in years prior, and a pair of thick, light blue trousers. Of course, even in her commoner garb, she keeps it clean (unless she's been indulging in her homely hobbies.)
However, as an esteemed sergeant of the guard, she is often seen in her set of plate armour. The armour is well made, very protective, but not overly flashy. As with most guardsman, her armour's look is fairly standard. No intricate designs, no flashy gems or trim, but instead just the standard issue lines and patterns across the metal work. The set is complete with a visored barbute helmet, with two eye holes and a small cross cut into one cheek.
The armour sports a tabard, designed with Isran colours and the nation's crest. It splits at the belt and runs down he greaves' thighs, revealing the chainmail skirts in between.
However, as a sergeant, she is granted just a little of her own touch. The trim around the neck of her breast plate sits a fur coif, one sported mostly by the handful of guards of Northern decent holding a high enough rank to get away with it.
For weapons, Helena has spent many years training with many different varieties, finding what suits her, but also for survival on the battlefield. Her philosophy is that, no matter how good a fighter you are, you can still be disarmed, so you should know how to fight with anything.
So, her primary choice in weapon is a longsword, sheathed on one side. As backup, she carries a kite shield on her back, and a one handed axe on her other side.
Allegiances: Isra and the Empress
Player's online availability : Somewhat available.
Registered: May 7, 2019 17:15:04 GMT -8
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Post by Helena Sigrid Sattler on Jun 9, 2019 6:28:36 GMT -8
Helena is quick to wrap a cloth around the part of her axe that the corpse had grabbed a hold of, deciding that the suggestion of disease is the first sensical thing Foxgloves has said today. Once wrapped up, she slips the axe back into her pack while the hand flops around not even three paces to her left.
Once the axe is safely put away, she looks back to the aforementioned hand, and takes a deep breath so she can think. So, we have a strange, nonsensical jester spouting odd prose, a potential murder victim, and necromancy, all in one location. This means that this area needs to be cordoned off, and the big guns pulled in, from more guards to magical scholars, to even the Blackcoats. It also means it's above Helena's pay grade.
Finally, she speaks. "Foxgloves," she begins. "This is going to be on hell of a report, one you aren't about to be left out of. This…" she looks to her sides for a brief moment. "This is going to involve some people that probably won't take to you as kindly as I will." Her tone is very serious indeed, even if she does take a brief moment to kick the hand slightly. "Tell me, do you know anything of necromancy? Are you able to practice, or sense it?" She looks up at the… man? "You seem to be capable of the impossible, so I am not about to rule out any information you are willing to give me."
Bah. The Blackcoats. A load of wanky, self aggrandizing folks with fancy coats and a bigger security clearance than her own. Helena had only met them on a few occasions, but it every time she did they always seemed to arrogant and up themselves, she personally didn't want them involved, but it isn't her decision
"Fucking… zombies."
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Foxgloves
Committed
Roleplay posts: 77
Physical Description: Foxgloves is shaped like a man for the most part, tall and lanky. He wears a long coat with innumerable pockets and a hood with two long points that flop about like a rabbit's ears. The fingers of his gloves are long and thin, and his pointed boots are unadorned. Most notably, he wears a white mask, behind which only darkness can be seen. He is very light, as though stuffed nothing but cotton and cobwebs.
Registered: May 14, 2019 20:08:06 GMT -8
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Post by Foxgloves on Jun 23, 2019 19:52:02 GMT -8
"Necromancy?" repeated Foxgloves, finishing up his whittling. "I haven't the foggiest idea. I don't know anything about necromancy at all. I only deal with living people and parts. Why would I know anything about necromancy? I have no need to raise the dead. None of my friends are dead, although not all of them are quite alive either."
Hopping down from his perch in the tree, he landed lightly on the ground without so much as a thud. He walked up to Helena, tossing her the little carving that he'd been working on and peering past her into the pond. Helena would find a small wooden soldier in her hand, exquisitely carved in her likeness right down to the scars on her face and the braid in her hair.
"Are you sure you want to include me in your report?" he asked. "Who will believe that you saw a strange masked man who could do things that cannot be done? People will think you're crazy. Or worse, they'll believe you. What then? There may or may not be some people in your department, high up in the guard, who already know me. The sort of person who doesn't want anyone else to meet me, and wants anyone who's seen me locked away until I can be kidnapped and put in a cage. Isn't that rude? Of course, this is all hypothetical. Write your report as you see fit, you good little wooden soldier."
Picking up a long wooden stick from the ground, he poked at the floating hand, which grabbed at it and pulled him sharply towards the water. Shaking his head, Foxgloves let go of the stick just before his pointy boot touched the pond's edge.
"And what if the very same hypothetical person is the one who ordered your little zombie put in this pond in the first place? I've heard all sorts of rumors, you know. You hear a lot of things if you listen, and people never expect anyone to be listening because they rarely listen themselves. Of course, rumors are rumors, but they all start with a grain of truth. Or so they say. So many rumors circulate about your government, you know. Pretty redheads with pretty eyes. Promotions based on performance in the bedroom. The Empress ordering seventeen whores and a pastry chef to her chambers in a single night. Who knows what's true anymore? What is the truth anyways, except memories that people can agree on?"
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Helena Sigrid Sattler
Established
Roleplay posts: 37
Age: 27
Physical Description: Helena is a tall woman, standing at six-foot-two, and has a strong, toned physique from years of training. She has long blonde hair, often tied into a braid, icy blue eyes, and a pale complexion. Her features are rather pretty, but she sports her fair share of scars, most hidden under her armour except for one that intersects her right eyebrow, and one small scar on the left side of her bottom lip.
Clothes and Equipment: Helena was brought up a commoner, so when outside of armour she doesn't bother with fancy attires that her wages could afford. Instead, she keeps to a regular old green tunic, one her mother had stitched Northern patterns in years prior, and a pair of thick, light blue trousers. Of course, even in her commoner garb, she keeps it clean (unless she's been indulging in her homely hobbies.)
However, as an esteemed sergeant of the guard, she is often seen in her set of plate armour. The armour is well made, very protective, but not overly flashy. As with most guardsman, her armour's look is fairly standard. No intricate designs, no flashy gems or trim, but instead just the standard issue lines and patterns across the metal work. The set is complete with a visored barbute helmet, with two eye holes and a small cross cut into one cheek.
The armour sports a tabard, designed with Isran colours and the nation's crest. It splits at the belt and runs down he greaves' thighs, revealing the chainmail skirts in between.
However, as a sergeant, she is granted just a little of her own touch. The trim around the neck of her breast plate sits a fur coif, one sported mostly by the handful of guards of Northern decent holding a high enough rank to get away with it.
For weapons, Helena has spent many years training with many different varieties, finding what suits her, but also for survival on the battlefield. Her philosophy is that, no matter how good a fighter you are, you can still be disarmed, so you should know how to fight with anything.
So, her primary choice in weapon is a longsword, sheathed on one side. As backup, she carries a kite shield on her back, and a one handed axe on her other side.
Allegiances: Isra and the Empress
Player's online availability : Somewhat available.
Registered: May 7, 2019 17:15:04 GMT -8
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Post by Helena Sigrid Sattler on Jun 23, 2019 20:14:28 GMT -8
"I ask you about necromancy because you seem to know a vast array of random things," Helena says, matter of factly. "And you seem in touch with magics I've never seen before, and I've seen wizards of many different kinds.
She catches the carving and looks it over briefly as Foxgloves brushes past her. It's… actually not bad. She pockets it for later, currently unsure on what to do with it, but there is more pressing matters to attend to right now.
"I'll be including you, yes," Helena says, eyes narrowed. "I don't care if you're known or not, or if they believe me, but it's my job to report stuff like dead bodies in off-limits areas and strange beings who don't make sense. If they don't want me talking about it, then they can tell me to my face." And if they draw weapons, Helena will fight to her last drop of blood. It seems the right thing to do. "Whether you are wanted or not, that's your probl- hey! Don't touch that?"
She's about to jump into action when Foxgloves suddenly stops in his tracks at the pond's edge. She closes her eyes and rubs her temples for a brief moment. This guy…
"If this is the doing of one of our own," she continues. "Then I will dig them out like a parasite. The guard and Isran armed forces have no room for that kind of wretch." What if it IS one of her own? That's something she'll need to deal with later. This could get ugly…
"The government will do what governments do," she says, sternly. "Rumours will always circulate, it's not my place to, nor do I enjoy, spreading such rumours. What the empress does, or the company she keeps, in her spare time is no business of mine, nor yours." She stands tall over him, hands on her hips. "And if you feel so strongly on rumours, then perhaps you should stop spreading them, hmm?"
People getting promoted for sexual performance? Preposterous. Even if it is true, then those that do get promoted will fail and it will show. Helena will succeed on her merit and skill, as she has done so far.
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Foxgloves
Committed
Roleplay posts: 77
Physical Description: Foxgloves is shaped like a man for the most part, tall and lanky. He wears a long coat with innumerable pockets and a hood with two long points that flop about like a rabbit's ears. The fingers of his gloves are long and thin, and his pointed boots are unadorned. Most notably, he wears a white mask, behind which only darkness can be seen. He is very light, as though stuffed nothing but cotton and cobwebs.
Registered: May 14, 2019 20:08:06 GMT -8
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Post by Foxgloves on Jun 23, 2019 20:41:29 GMT -8
"You misunderstand," said Foxgloves. "I love rumors. Rumors are how I get most of my information, after all. Sure, you have to sift through piles and piles of nonsense to get to the facts, but that's the fun bit. It's like finding a hidden treasure in a heap of junk, a secret in a sea of drivel. There's nothing I love more than a secret, you know. A good secret can be worth more than all the rubies in the Empress' alleged gem-studded corset. I met a man who swore he made that, you know. A real jeweler. Nobody else ever seems to have seen it, though. Maybe he was telling the truth, or maybe it was an invention of his mind. It's so hard to tell sometimes."
He stepped primly away from the muddy bank, tiptoeing lightly until he stood barely half an arm's length in front of Helena. Even from such a close distance, she would be able to see nothing but inky blackness behind the eyes of his mask, a void that seemed to pull in the light and keep it from escaping.
"Rumors love to be spread," he said. "Just like disease or wildfires or dandelion seeds. It's what they're for, their purpose in life. Everything and everyone needs a purpose, I think. What's yours? To be the strong arm of the Empress, the sword of the empire? What happens when the parasite you're trying to dig out turns out to be part of the body itself? Doesn't that make you the parasite, trying to destroy it from within?"
Raising a gloved hand, he went to brush a stray hair out of Helena's face with a long, pointy finger. It was an oddly tender motion, a very familiar sort of act that one would expect more from a parent or a lover than a complete stranger.
"Perhaps you'd find solace in forgetfulness," he said. "Memories are such flexible things, after all. They can be twisted and bent and still somehow fit just right in your mind. I'd hate to have anything bad happen to you just because you saw me, after all. That wouldn't make me a very good friend, now would it? And we are friends now, Helena. Friends make the world go round, after all."
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Helena Sigrid Sattler
Established
Roleplay posts: 37
Age: 27
Physical Description: Helena is a tall woman, standing at six-foot-two, and has a strong, toned physique from years of training. She has long blonde hair, often tied into a braid, icy blue eyes, and a pale complexion. Her features are rather pretty, but she sports her fair share of scars, most hidden under her armour except for one that intersects her right eyebrow, and one small scar on the left side of her bottom lip.
Clothes and Equipment: Helena was brought up a commoner, so when outside of armour she doesn't bother with fancy attires that her wages could afford. Instead, she keeps to a regular old green tunic, one her mother had stitched Northern patterns in years prior, and a pair of thick, light blue trousers. Of course, even in her commoner garb, she keeps it clean (unless she's been indulging in her homely hobbies.)
However, as an esteemed sergeant of the guard, she is often seen in her set of plate armour. The armour is well made, very protective, but not overly flashy. As with most guardsman, her armour's look is fairly standard. No intricate designs, no flashy gems or trim, but instead just the standard issue lines and patterns across the metal work. The set is complete with a visored barbute helmet, with two eye holes and a small cross cut into one cheek.
The armour sports a tabard, designed with Isran colours and the nation's crest. It splits at the belt and runs down he greaves' thighs, revealing the chainmail skirts in between.
However, as a sergeant, she is granted just a little of her own touch. The trim around the neck of her breast plate sits a fur coif, one sported mostly by the handful of guards of Northern decent holding a high enough rank to get away with it.
For weapons, Helena has spent many years training with many different varieties, finding what suits her, but also for survival on the battlefield. Her philosophy is that, no matter how good a fighter you are, you can still be disarmed, so you should know how to fight with anything.
So, her primary choice in weapon is a longsword, sheathed on one side. As backup, she carries a kite shield on her back, and a one handed axe on her other side.
Allegiances: Isra and the Empress
Player's online availability : Somewhat available.
Registered: May 7, 2019 17:15:04 GMT -8
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Post by Helena Sigrid Sattler on Jun 24, 2019 18:29:07 GMT -8
"Information that tends to be wrong," Helena points out, raising an eyebrow. "It's a waste of time to sift through the garbage to find a truth. Regardless, I leave that to greater minds, keepers of whispers, spies, inspectors. Me and my men are the hand of the law, swords and shields." She puts a hand on the pommel of her sword as if for emphasis. Even though she declares she isn't there to sift through rumours or to, for lack of a better word, think, Foxgloves could no doubt see the spark of intelligence in her eyes, even if she chooses not to show it.
Afterall, it's how she gets people to underestimate her.
Once Foxgloves steps up, her mind is set, this creature is no man. A chaotic construct? A puppet? A piece of undigested cheese or a blob of mustard, creating a figment of her imagination? No. Foxgloves is… most likely just Foxgloves. A fluke, a random assortment of natural mistakes. She wouldn't say that, of cours.
"And just like wildfire and disease, they kill all the same," she retorts. "Either the body or the mind, it doesn't matter. Rumours should be quelled before they start." Then the question of what her purpose is. To protect the realm and fight those who would attack it. Then again, when was the last time she saw action? The most she'd done is punch a drunkard who spat in her face, and that was off duty. Most of her work is either breaking up tavern fights and… ugh. Paperwork.
Her delay to think about this would speak volumes to those who would pay attention to such things.
Finally, she realises she's been silent for too long. "I protect the empire and fight all those who would oppose it," she says. "I'm a fighter. Not a scholar or a politician. My sword is my art, and it speaks for me."
Then she shakes her head. "Parasites? Mindless rumours, Foxgloves. Every organisation, from the trade ports to the empress herself have rumours like that, they can't all be true, and I refuse to believe any until I see proof."
She points into the murky waters. "That in there? That's not proof. That's a dumped body and God knows what else, any criminal could be behind it, and don't think I haven't ruled you out, Foxgloves. Somehow I know less about you than I did before I had the opportunity to meet you."
Opportunity? Surely she meant displeasure. She noticed it herself, and immediately begins to think about why, but it quickly passes.
"I'm not about to forget any of this," she finally says. "I can't, it's not what I'm paid to do. This all needs to be investigated, a murder and… I don't know, necromancy? Psychotic healing magics? Magic gone awry? I don't know."
As for the friends part… maybe not. "Nothing bad will happen to me," she says, confidently. "And I'm certain you'll somehow evade any danger to yourself as well. You seem the evasive type."
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Foxgloves
Committed
Roleplay posts: 77
Physical Description: Foxgloves is shaped like a man for the most part, tall and lanky. He wears a long coat with innumerable pockets and a hood with two long points that flop about like a rabbit's ears. The fingers of his gloves are long and thin, and his pointed boots are unadorned. Most notably, he wears a white mask, behind which only darkness can be seen. He is very light, as though stuffed nothing but cotton and cobwebs.
Registered: May 14, 2019 20:08:06 GMT -8
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Post by Foxgloves on Jun 29, 2019 19:43:20 GMT -8
Foxgloves nodded, cocking his head to the side as he contemplated Helena, much like a pigeon contemplated a breadcrumb.
"I am rather good at evading danger," he said. "That's very true. You're more perceptive than you look, Helena dear. I have to be evasive, though. There are loads of people out there who might want to do me harm, people who prefer to let their swords do the talking. I'm rather delicate, you know. Not a lot of people realize that. If I can't evade danger, I may end up broken, and that's always a very unpleasant experience indeed. I can't swing swords or cast spells, you know...at least, not like this."
He walked away from her, picking up a small stone and lobbing it at the hand in the water. It bounced off the knuckle, causing the hand to thrash wildly and grasp at the air. This reaction produced a dry chuckle from Foxgloves, who threw another stone at it before returning his attention to Helena.
"You ought to give yourself more credit," he said. "I'm sure you know a lot more about me than you're letting on. For instance, don't you know me well enough to know that I couldn't possibly have anything to do with that there corpse? That's far too messy for me, I terribly dislike leaving clutter and trash around. Besides, even if I somehow found a corpse through entirely innocent means, I'd never let it go to waste."
Stepping behind a large tree, he produced a large canvas sack from behind it. He reached into the sack, pulling out a severed human hand. The hand twitched and flexed as he held it delicately by the pinky, pinching it between his thumb and forefinger.
"They're very valuable, you know. Lots of people, especially people who like to let their swords do all the talking, end up losing bits and pieces. I offer replacements for a very reasonable rate, with a nominal installation fee. Nothing nefarious about the way I found this one, by the way. He'd fallen off a horse and under the wheels of a cart, poor lad. If you end up losing any body parts, anything at all, I'm sure I can fix you up as good as new. I'll even offer a discount, because we're friends. That's what friends do."
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Helena Sigrid Sattler
Established
Roleplay posts: 37
Age: 27
Physical Description: Helena is a tall woman, standing at six-foot-two, and has a strong, toned physique from years of training. She has long blonde hair, often tied into a braid, icy blue eyes, and a pale complexion. Her features are rather pretty, but she sports her fair share of scars, most hidden under her armour except for one that intersects her right eyebrow, and one small scar on the left side of her bottom lip.
Clothes and Equipment: Helena was brought up a commoner, so when outside of armour she doesn't bother with fancy attires that her wages could afford. Instead, she keeps to a regular old green tunic, one her mother had stitched Northern patterns in years prior, and a pair of thick, light blue trousers. Of course, even in her commoner garb, she keeps it clean (unless she's been indulging in her homely hobbies.)
However, as an esteemed sergeant of the guard, she is often seen in her set of plate armour. The armour is well made, very protective, but not overly flashy. As with most guardsman, her armour's look is fairly standard. No intricate designs, no flashy gems or trim, but instead just the standard issue lines and patterns across the metal work. The set is complete with a visored barbute helmet, with two eye holes and a small cross cut into one cheek.
The armour sports a tabard, designed with Isran colours and the nation's crest. It splits at the belt and runs down he greaves' thighs, revealing the chainmail skirts in between.
However, as a sergeant, she is granted just a little of her own touch. The trim around the neck of her breast plate sits a fur coif, one sported mostly by the handful of guards of Northern decent holding a high enough rank to get away with it.
For weapons, Helena has spent many years training with many different varieties, finding what suits her, but also for survival on the battlefield. Her philosophy is that, no matter how good a fighter you are, you can still be disarmed, so you should know how to fight with anything.
So, her primary choice in weapon is a longsword, sheathed on one side. As backup, she carries a kite shield on her back, and a one handed axe on her other side.
Allegiances: Isra and the Empress
Player's online availability : Somewhat available.
Registered: May 7, 2019 17:15:04 GMT -8
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Post by Helena Sigrid Sattler on Jun 30, 2019 20:04:05 GMT -8
It pays to be perceptive, Helena knew that very well. A lot of her young adult life was spent not only training her sword arm and technique, but training a keen eye as well, that way she could quickly get a feel for her opponents and be able to react from their tells. It just so happened to help with her police work too.
"Stop playing with the corpse," Helena says with a roll of her eyes. "It's tampering with evidence, leave it be until my squad comes back." She hadn't been sitting here chatting up a storm with Foxgloves for her health while a corpse sat in the pond. No, she had been waiting for the return of her men so she could send for the Guard's resident apothecary and investigators. If there's something in the water, they'll know.
She listens to him speak and finds that he has a point. Though baggy and weird, Foxgloves had finesse, and didn't seem nearly brutal enough to dump a body in a pond. More so the former, even with a facade, she knew that he would be more thorough in body disposal. God, what a morbid thought.
Then the bag comes out and Helena just doesn't know what to think. Yes, she had heard of an underground market for new limbs, she had even seen the scars that wrapped around certain folks' arms, but thought nothing of it, that it was all coincidence and stories. But no, here's the king of weird Foxgloves, with a bag of parts and a story of selling and reattaching them. Charming.
She cant help but shake her head and sigh. "I should be surprised that you have a bag of parts. I really should be, yet here we are." She crosses her arms over her armoured chest and raises an eyebrow. "So you're a graverobber too now?"
Where are her guys...
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