Circe
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Post by Circe on May 16, 2009 23:45:17 GMT 5.5
Circe slipped past the city gates of Shovenia unnoticed. It wasn't that she was afraid of being caught by the guards stationed at the gates - it had, after all, been over half a century since she had last been inside the city walls - but she still did not want to take the risk of any of them recognizing her from a crudely drawn, fifty-year-old wanted poster. The fact that her face had not aged much during fifty years since also didn't help her much. Luckily, the guards were too preoccupied with the suspicious cargo of a foreign caravan to pay her any attention.
The city of Shovenia was large; its wide, cobblestoned streets were filled with bustling open-air markets and lined with its fair share of inns, taverns, and craftshops. Circe disappeared into the massive throngs of people and animals that crowded the streets at midday. On either side of her, merchants were shouting out their wares, children giggled as they ran through the crowds, animals howled and bleated at their owners, things crashed as they fell on the ground, and people yelled as they bargained for better prices. Circe ducked into the first building she saw.
The relative quiet of the smithing workshop was welcoming compared to the din of the streets outside. There were a few people milling about the workshop, looking at the weapons that were on display. Circe hovered by the door, absently looking at the various advertisements and posters that littered the wall. Her eyes widened as her portrait stared right back at her from a wanted poster. She quickly snatched the poster off the wall and crumpled it up, mumbling a string of curses under her breath.
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Post by Leopold Martin on May 17, 2009 3:18:11 GMT 5.5
"Can you unbend my helmet as well?" Spoke Leopold as he bought the Blacksmith's service with item trade. A few commonrs looked at him as if he was odd compared to them. It was understandable though. He stood astray, for he wore white knight armor and carried a nine-foot tall Spear.
Shovenia's blacksmiths were the best in his opinion at fixing broken and worn-down armor. His armor, dented serveral from a small herd of grizzly bears attack, was too damanged for him to repair it alone. Luckily, He won against the bears with no major wounds.
He heard the crackling of paper from the other side of the store, and turned around to see the source. A familiar blur stood not too far away. "You look familiar," He said to what he thought was Circe, someone he met a few weeks prior.
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Circe
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Posts: 36
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Post by Circe on May 17, 2009 8:54:15 GMT 5.5
Circe looked up as someone addressed her. Her gaze fell on a man dressed in a white suit of armor, albeit dented in several places, standing near the front of the workshop. Tossing the ball of paper aside, she made her way over to him. "So do you."
Her eyebrows furrowed as she tried to place him. "Leo? The monk from the Khun monastery?" Her eyes lit up in recognition as she placed him. "It's been a while, hasn't it?" The blacksmith cleared his throat in the background, grabbing her attention momentarily. She undid the belt at her waist that held two obsidian khopesh, wicked sickle-shaped blades, and set them down on the counter. "Can I get the blades re-fired?" she asked. The blacksmith took one glance at the foreign weapons and grunted as he shuffled away with them in hand.
Circe turned back to Leopold and grinned. "So, what brings you to Shovenia?" She walked a short distance from the counter, out of the way of the other common folk.
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Post by Leopold Martin on May 18, 2009 7:05:12 GMT 5.5
"That's me," Leo said happy to know it was indeed Circe. "I'm here for no particular reason," He told her. "Shovenia has the best blacksmiths in my opinion, and obviously I need one." A small smile crossed his face as he knocked his knuckles on his helmet before the Blacksmith carried that away as well.
"May I ask what you are up too as well?" He implied, wiping a few smudge marks of the torso of his armor. Leo also pulled out his morning-star and placed it on the table to be sharpened. The spikes on the weapon were dull, so he figured now would be a good time.
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Circe
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Posts: 36
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Post by Circe on May 20, 2009 5:36:00 GMT 5.5
Circe nodded at his comment about the blacksmiths. Shovenia attracted the best crasftmen and artisans from across the land, whether they were Arysian or invader. It truly made the city the hub of almost every trade known to man. Circe looked at the condition of Leopold's armor, making a mental note to ask him later what sort of trouble he had managed to get himself into.
"We can go to one of the local taverns once he comes back to retrieve the rest of your gear," Circe offered. There wasn't proper time for a reply; she was already on her way out the door.
Stepping out once again into the busy streets, Circe took a moment to scan the buildings for the tell-tale wooden sign of a pub. She strode purposely across the street, sidestepping both animal droppings and small children, and disappeared into a side alley. The alley itself was narrow and dingy, filled with more than its fair share of trash.
Circe stepped up to the only door in the alleyway and pushed it open, revealing a shady tavern that was even more dingy-looking than the alley outside. There were several tables scattered about, a few of them occupied, as well as a few people passed out at the tavern bar. She headed over to the bar and plopped herself down unceremoniously onto a stool.
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Post by Leopold Martin on May 21, 2009 4:48:27 GMT 5.5
Without much time to reply, Leo supposed he would follow Circe. Since the blacksmith was busy, and his armor was not first in line, he had time to spare before they were fixed. Leopold took the rest of his armor off and laid it on the table for the Blacksmith. He figured they would come back later in an hour or two.
Leopold walked out of the door, and concentrated deeply on where Circe went. Luckily, there wasn't much in his way. He caught up with her once she opened the door to a tavern. He could smell the scent of strong cigars, and the sweet fumes of freshly poured mead. Leopold sat on a stool next to Circe. His height caused him to sit with his knees above the seat.
A barmaid, blond, short, and carrying a tray, came up to them. "Can I get you anything?" She asked either of two.
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Circe
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Posts: 36
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Post by Circe on May 21, 2009 6:01:52 GMT 5.5
"Only a mug of ale for me," Circe said without much thought. Most of her attention was concentrated on a couple of burly, but clearly drunk men who were playing a game of dice at the other end of the bar. They were fairly quiet now but they would undoubtedly become rowdy when they started betting on the outcome of the game. She turned away from the game and addressed Leopold. Her eye immediately went to the many chinks and dings in his white suit of armor.
"What happened to you? You look like you were wrestling with a dragon," Circe chuckled and looked him over again before she added, "and lost."
The barmaid returned with their drinks and set them down before the two. She wiped her hands on her arpon and nodded at their drinks, "Th' drinks be five peices o' copp'r apeice. Call me o'er when you're done." She gave them a blank stare, then turned and wandered back down the bar to her other patrons.
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Post by Leopold Martin on May 22, 2009 9:05:05 GMT 5.5
Leopold laughed quietly, “If only.” He picked up his mug of ale and continued between sips. “I got into a scuffle with a group of grizzly bears not to far from the mountains base. It felt like fighting a dragon was easier to fight when one of them heaved me against a tree.” Leo sat down the mug, now partially full, and sighed. His body ached heavily from the wounds and his only pain reliever was the dull taste of hops on his tongue. He figured their reason of attack was his fault, since he was the one who ran into them.
The broad-shouldered men, whom held Circe’s wary attention, became louder with every passing minute – and tall glass of beer. Leo tried not to listen, or make note of their existence. However, by late, the entire pub was aware of them.
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Circe
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Posts: 36
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Post by Circe on May 23, 2009 4:20:35 GMT 5.5
Circe downed half of the mug in a single gulp, pausing to savor the sharp taste of the ale. A numbing sensation filled her body and mind as the brew coursed through her. She shook her head as the initial wave of numbness passed and leaned against the counter. "You used to be knight in the Prince's army, right?" She lowered her voice and continued, "Before he was exiled, I mean. There's a guy here in town who---"
Circe was interrupted by a loud outburst from the corner; one of the men had upturned the table and sent its contents hurtling to the ground - glasses and all. Circe didn't turn to look even though she had stopped speaking, instead concentrating on the remainder of her ale. The larger man wasn't yelling at his friend directly, more so to the world at large, but his speech was too slurred to understand what he was ranting about.
His slightly less-drunk friend was ushering the larger man towards the door, but the larger man detoured and stumbled over to where Leopold and Circe were sitting. "Oy, Sir Knight!" he slurred heavily, leaning forward as he frowned at Leo's chest. "I ch-challenge thee to a duel." He reached behind him and pulled out a blade - not as large as a sword, but longer than a dagger.
The barmaid frowned at the large drunk and his friend. "John, get Rowan and take that outside. Y'know I'll have none o' that in here with the customers." She turned to Circe and Leopold and barked, "You trouble-making lot can get outta 'ere, too." By the look on her face, it wasn't up for negotiation.
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Post by Leopold Martin on May 24, 2009 9:01:15 GMT 5.5
Leopold was listening to Circe, when the man's angry explosion interrupted her. He did not attempt to see the source for obvious reasons, however his efforts to go unnoticed failed – miserably – when the drunkard challenged him to a spar. As a peaceful monk, fighting, unless defensively, was out of the picture. However, he had an intense feeling a simple denial would not resolve the matter.
He felt rather embarrassed when the barmaid kicked Circe and him out. He knew all eyes were on the lot of them. In addition, this never happened to him before in such a large settlement. “Alright, we’ll leave, Miss.” He told the barmaid as he tossed the gold coins to pay for both the ales.
He then turned to face the dagger-wielding man and his friend. “Well,” He began with a sharp sigh. “Let’s take this out into the alleyway.” Wearing the first edition of armor the Arysia army wore in battle, in exception to a few missing pieces, the tall man stood up and looked down at the two others. He waited for what Circe had to say on the issue.
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Circe
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Post by Circe on May 25, 2009 1:26:29 GMT 5.5
"Let's just get out of here," Circe muttered to Leopold as she stood, raising her mug and draining the rest of the ale. The barmaid watched the group like a hawk while they exited the tavern - as if she expected them to turn around at any moment and cause even more trouble. Circe trailed behind the drunks by Leopold.
"All of my weapons are back at the shop. We'll have to come up with something clever to get rid those two." Her voice sounded grave, but she was just mulling over ways to get the drunks to admit defeat without attracting the unwanted attention an actual fight would cause. Changing was out of the question. Not only would that cause even more of a scene, but the alleyway was definitely too narrow to accomodate a Rajegh in true form. How did she always manage to be unarmed when she needed her weapons the most?
Circe stepped out into the dirty alley was a couple of paces behind the two drunks. They both had their weapons out and seemed to be waiting for Leopold since they didn't rush her as soon as she stepped outside. Circe narrowed her eyes at the larger drunk, who was teetering unevenly on his feet. If they could get either of the drunks off-balance, they wouldn't even need weapons to fight.
Rowan, the larger drunk, bellowed. "Move, woman! This be a man's fight." The shorter one, John, took a step towards her, brandishing his weapon menancingly. "Y'heard the man. Now get outta here before ye gets hurt, girl." Circe scowled and remained where she was.
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Post by Leopold Martin on May 26, 2009 4:36:35 GMT 5.5
“I have a few weapons on me,” Leopold said revealing the halberd he carried early from behind his cape. He kept it folded when he did not use it next to the broadsword he concealed. However, Leo wanted to use as little force as possible. What dignity would he achieve by beating a couple of roughhousing drunkards, in an alley, behind an inn? Not a very noble cause, that is to say.
Leo scowled at the two men. “Don’t speak to her like that,” He ordered, "Or else." Oh, what could a little stab and slice hurt? No. However angry he got at these two men, irrational violence was not the answer – yet. He then took a fighting stance, fists in front and feet planted, awaiting the scene.
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Circe
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Post by Circe on May 26, 2009 5:08:41 GMT 5.5
Another voice joined the fray. "What's goin' on here? A fight?" Two city guards stood at the mouth of the alley and neither of them looked pleased. Both wore the typical guards' uniform of black armor with the insignia of the invaders' royal family, a flame-red lion and also carried thick black clubs in their hands. The two drunks lowered their blades as the guards approached the group.
There was a short silence as the guards looked over the group. One of them spoke up as he noticed Leopold's armor. "What is a knight of the Prince doing fighting these two drunken fools?" He snarled the word 'prince' and Circe knew in that moment that they probably wouldn't be able to talk their way out of this one.
The other guard piped up from behind him, "Shall we take them in?" The first simply nodded, not taking his eyes off of Leopold. Circe groaned audibly as the guards took away the drunks' weapons and began frisking everyone else for hidden weapons.
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Post by Leopold Martin on May 26, 2009 9:16:11 GMT 5.5
“I’m not a knight of the Prince,” Leopold stated. Well, he did look like one. However, his word was his word, and even though they meant nothing to these guards, he planned to speak his truth. The guards could not keep their weapons; he needed to get his weapons back. They were all he had, and no amount of hay-pennies he held to his name could add up for weapon replacement.
He handed over all the weapons he had, refusing the frisk. He looked at Circe and asked her, “Has this ever happened to you?” It happened to him once before, but that was a couple years ago. Leopold thought it was strange how trouble followed him everywhere. To be more precise, how odd it was that most trouble occurred lately.
((Sorry for being short, I had a migraine))
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Circe
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Posts: 36
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Post by Circe on May 27, 2009 2:18:34 GMT 5.5
{{That's alright, don't worry about it. It's all good. ;D}} The guard didn't respond, he just watched Leopold warily as he pulled out his weapons and handed them over. The guards divided the confiscated weapons up so that they could carry them. Satisfied that none of them were still armed, the guards shackled each of their feet and wrists together. "Move," one of the guards ordered as he took up a spot behind the group. The other guard stood at the head of the group and led them out of the alleyway and into the wide streets. She had to speak over her shoulder to answer Leopold's earlier question. "A few times, but they were all long ago - before the invaders took over the city." The guard near the rear told them both to shut up and walk. They were led a mile or so down the roads to the city jail, a sqaut stone structure with bars in the few windows it had. The guards took them up the steps and into the building. Inside, the only sources of light came from the two windows on the front side of the building and various torches along the walls. The group was marched down to the lower levels of the the buildings, to the dungeons. They were unshackled and put into separate cells, though the only thing spearating each of the cells was a wall of iron bars. Circe and Leopold were placed in cells right next to each other; the drunks were across from them. "Someone'll be around later t' get information from ye," one of the guards grunted. They checked the locks on the cells again before they went back up the stairs, the group's weapons still in hand.
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