Journey (Peregrine x Kuroh)

Discussion in 'ROLEPLAY GRAVEYARD' started by Peregrine, Feb 1, 2014.

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  1. 1: Princess Alyimda Hanisa dom Khalifeh Mosteghanemi has a massive power sealed away inside of her as she is born. It is impossible to get this power for her own use, especially as she doesn't even know it exists. Her uncle and regent wants to steal the throne now that she is coming of age, and sends her away into enemy territory with his servant to kill her. She is rescued from drowning after being thrown off a bridge by a young man named Tristen Hart, and, to impress the pretty young lady, he makes up a story about how he is the greatest hero in the land. She begs him to escort her back to the border, where her village supposedly is, and he is forced to agree or blow his "cover". However, later in the journey the two are attacked again. She begs him to save her, and this incredibly average man suddenly finds that he can do all the things that he boasted of. Very confused, he eventually realizes that everything he can do comes directly from this girl's belief. Anything she believes to be true becomes so. He decides to use her power for his own gain.
    #1 Peregrine, Feb 1, 2014
    Last edited: Feb 2, 2014
  2. The air was warm, unusually so for a spring day in the valley. Leaves and dust spun through the air in intricate circles of gold and green, stroking the ground ever so slightly, like fingertips, before whipping off into the shadows of the wood. Despite the warmth of the day, very little moved. The few birds who chirped did so at a distance from the crumbling pathway, and Tristen Hart hadn't seen one deer or rabbit since waking that morning, little more than a few hours ago.

    Perhaps it was the almost stagnant air that kept them hiding in the cool shade beneath the tall, green boughs, relief brought to them only when the occasional breeze whirled through. Or, on a much darker note, perhaps they hid because men were near, and not the kind type, at that. Of course, Tristen couldn't know that if he had chosen to turn left on the fork in the road he'd come across a quarter of an hour before he wouldn't have even made it to the river. It was pure luck and a sense of adventure that had him turning right, down the road less traveled with its cracked and dusty path and weed covered edges.

    For the moment, the loudest noise around was that of the impact Tristen's horse made every time her hooves hit the earth. She moved slowly, but with a sense of purpose, while her idiot of a rider began to doze off on her back. With such warmth and motionless air he was having the greatest of troubles staying awake. His amber eyes were unfocused and half hidden by blonde lashes while his hands rested limply against the saddle, reigns looped carelessly around his knuckles. Celty, Tristen's dappled ride, snorted and shook her head as a fly flew too close to her nose. The slight movement shifted her rider just so, and he slipped sideways fast enough to jar him into consciousness.

    "Celty!" he nearly shrieked, righting himself in the saddle and swallowing dryly. He was lucky to have been woken; these parts of the forest were known for bandits and other such hoodlums. Tristen wasn't in the mood for dying, not today.

    Groaning, he shifted in his seat; he was getting rather saddle sore. It was almost time for an early lunch break. Not that Tristen had much food left seeing as he had been an idiot in the last town he'd passed through and had gambled half of his rations away. The fact of the matter was, Tristen was verging on dead broke, and was living off of the land half of the time. Times like these were the only times when he was glad of his previous living as a hunter, the bow came in handy when food was scarce.

    It had only been two years since he left home without letting his family know, but he'd already been reduced to a gambling, low-life wanderer without a home to call his own. Granted, he had made various contacts and friends since the beginning, and was always able to find lodging in towns for cheap, but it was the food and money that he had problems with. For example, he was always taking the most ridiculous of jobs every time he took a break from his travels. At one point, he had even been an actor in an illegal road-show, though what had happened to end that one was a mystery (he barely remembered anything of his last evening performing due to a rather ugly head wound he had received from a grumpy law enforcer). Now, Tristen found himself being a little more careful with the odd jobs he took, but they were never as high paying as he wished.

    Tristen sighed and shook his head, ridding his mind of nostalgic thoughts of the "good old days" and focusing on his present situation. He just had to make it to a safe place for nightfall, preferably somewhere he could set a trap for a rabbit. Easy, right?

    Those thoughts didn't last very long after they had started, however, and he soon found himself daydreaming of becoming a hero, endowed with courage and impressive swordsmanship, cheered on by beautiful women wherever he went. If only he had been born into a better life, one without a neglectful mother or a drunkard of a father. Maybe, thought Tristen maybe one day I'll be a hero. Part of him crowed with laughter, telling him that he was never going anywhere in life, and with a heavy sigh Tristen was once again clearing his mind of anything but the necessary tasks.

    The wind picked up slightly once again, blowing grit into his eyes and a breeze down his back. "C'mon, Celty," he muttered, patting her on the neck, "let’s just make it a little further." She whickered softly at his touch and picked up the pace, rounding the next bend with the intent of moving onwards. Moments later, she stopped, and Tristen stared with relief at the cool, glistening water of the deep forest waters. He hopped off of the horse's back and collapsed to his knees, cupping his hands under the water that made his fingers tingle with the cold. He was just taking a refreshing sip when something caught his eye and he started choking on the little that had made it into his mouth.

    There, floating down the river with her eyes closed and a serene expression on her face was an unconscious (or possibly dead) woman.

    "Oh my gods... Would you look at that?" Tristen felt a moment of indecision as he watched her begin to approach the level where he and Celty stood. Either he could jump in and save her, but end up with an extra passenger, or he could let her go on floating down the fast moving forest stream. Barely a few seconds later, he had made his decision and stripped off his coat to reveal a white blouse underneath; moving fast, he tossed the coat onto Celty's back and prayed that she stayed by the shore.

    With a swear that would have made a lady swoon, he was splashing a few feet in. The water was much deeper than anticipated and he had to swim the rest of the way to grab onto the woman's arm. Tristen tugged her closer and wrapped his arms around her waist before he kicked his booted feet to get to shore. Some water got splashed into his throat and he coughed until he finally reached a point where he could stand and hold the woman at the same time.

    Not a minute later he was laying her down on the grass on the side of the road. Holding his knife up to her nose, he checked for breathe and was relieved to see a faint misting on the mirror-like surface. So, the beautiful woman lived. With an uncertain expression, he was turning her head to the side in the hopes that any water in her lungs would flow out. When some did, he tilted her body further. Her breathing was stronger, now, and Tristen let himself relax a little. "Hey, ma'am, wake up!" he wasn't entirely sure of what to do now, but he figured that since she was breathing almost normally now she should be fine. A moment of clarity had him grabbing his jacket off of Celty's back and draping it over her upper body, and he shook her shoulder in the hopes that she would wake. He shivered slightly, his thin blouse soaking and more than a little see through. "My lady?" he questioned once again, kneeling over her with his wet hair dripping.
  3. Princess Alyimda Hanisa dom Khalifeh Mosteghanemi was wet. And while there was nothing wrong with soaking in a warm pool with eddies of steam rising around her nude form, it was an entirely different matter to find herself suddenly awoken to a violent shaking, her fine dress sopping wet and dripping freezing cold water. Not only that, but there was something above her head, dripping more of that unpleasantly cold water onto her face. There was also something hard digging into her back, and she could practically feel the wet mud seeping into her white linen.

    Her eyes fluttered open slowly, palest blue eyes surveying everything around her. It took her a moment to process what exactly it was that she was seeing. There was a man. And he was on top of her. She let out a sudden, violent shriek as everything from the past few minutes came suddenly flooding back to her, kicking wildly at her assailant before scrambling away from him.

    Alyimda had been informed by her uncle on the eve of her eighteenth birthday that the kingdom of Amador had sent a representative, at great personal risk, south across the Great River and into their own kingdom. The kingdom of Amador and her own Ghanemsahad Empire had been at war for hundreds of years, costing thousands of lives and constantly eating away at the desert kingdom's very limited resources. The king of Amador had a young son, a young son that he apparently hoped to marry to the Princess of Ghanemsahad and so form an alliance between the two kingdoms, for mutual benefit. It had been Alyimda's duty to agree to the proposition, and she had been escorted out of the palace by a small retinue of soldiers less than a week later.

    Of course, none of them had been expected to be beset upon by rebels moments after crossing over the Great River. The loyal servant of her uncle had spirited away the princess in a carriage, leaving her guards to deal with the threat and prevent anyone from coming after them. Her uncle's servant had also provided a glamor at that time, concealing her dark skin and hair behind palest locks and complexion, so that any locals, unaware of the impending peace treaty between the two nations.

    Of course, Alyimda was not used to such rough travel, but she did her best not to complain. This was her duty as a princess, she needed to be prepared to do anything for the good of her people. But two days later and she was starting to become remarkably uncomfortable. Her tent and roll had been lost in the attack, and while sleeping in the carriage was far preferable to the ground, it was not a place that was meant to hold a young lady indefinitely. Her uncle's servant did his best to care for her, but he was a man and she was a lady. There was only so much he could properly do. Perhaps that was part of the reason he was so quiet?

    As if her trip hadn't already been a disaster, she had found the carriage suddenly coming to a halt in the middle of a bridge. When Alyimda had poked her head out to see what exactly the servant thought he was doing, she had found herself confronted by a long sword, and the gruff and smelly man who was pointing it at her. He forced her, a lady of standing, out of the carriage, and had placed her by the edge of the bridge with her servant.

    Bless his heart, the man had tried to save her, even if he hadn't been particularly clever about it. He took one panicked look at the bandits, and promptly shoved her over the edge of the bridge! That might have been alright, except for the fact that the heavy dress she was wearing was not meant for swimming, and quickly dragged her under the water. She had fainted only moments later, for which she considered herself somewhat lucky. She did not want to think about what those nasty men would do to him.

    It took her a moment to realize that the man she had rudely kicked upon her awakening was not one of the bandits who had set upon her back up at the bridge. In fact, judging by the damp state of his hair and clothing, this man had most likely just pulled her out of the river. Alyimda quickly got to her feet, and hurried back over to the man. She kneeled down next to him, and placed her hand on his shoulder. "Good sir, I apologize most sincerely. Thank you for saving me from drowning. May I ask your name?"
  4. If the half-drowned lady didn't wake up soon, Tristen was going to be more than a little panicked. He didn't have the resources or experience to keep an unconscious woman alive, let alone to be able to get her somewhere safe. Maybe she needed warmth? He could always start a fire… but that was always a bad idea in this neck of the woods. Once again, bandits were on his mind. Perhaps bandits were the reason for the unfortunate woman's demise.

    Looking down at her again, Tristen noticed the fine quality of her dress and her smooth, fair skin that could only be that of a noblewoman of some sort. He was just a low-life, and felt embarrassed to be kneeling over someone so above his class. Maybe he would just not mention his lifestyle, or his lack of house and home.

    As Tristen mulled over his various options, hair still dripping (though he didn't realize where it dripped), he noticed that the lady's eyes were slowly fluttering open. "Morning, sleeping beauty," he began, a grin starting to slip onto his face. Of course, that was when she had to go and shriek at him. He jumped, starting to scramble back, but not before her knee met his stomach. With that, his breath flew from his lungs and he sat back, hands resting on his knees as he wheezed. "Ow," he whined, groaning as he moved back into a kneeling position. She'd kicked him, and it had hurt!

    "My lady, was that really, uh, necessary?" Tristen asked, rubbing at his stomach and watching as she hurried over to his side. He cracked a faint, crooked smile as she knelt at his side, much as he had done with her, and spoke. Her voice was lovely and slightly accented, though he couldn't for the life of him guess where she was from (her appearance gave him some clues), and he appreciated it much more than her previous shriek. "There is no need to apologize, ma'am, I am the one at fault for scaring you like that." Well, if he was to be in the presence of a woman, he might as well act the dashing knight! "My name is Sir Tristen Hart, at your service."

    Awkwardly, Tristen scrambled into a half standing position and bowed low, as he had seen others do for their masters and mistresses. "Would it be prudent of me to ask after your name, my lady?" he asked with a grin. He decided, seeing her in her sopping wet, fine clothing that he would act as her knight, maybe even protect her from bandits! Granted, he was pretty terrible with a sword, and didn't even carry one with him. He had a long hunting knife, and his bow, but not much more. Perhaps that would have to change. After all, he had just pulled a noblewoman from the river waters and saved her from potentially drowning.

    Noticing that his jacket had fallen off of the young lady when she had moved (and kicked him(, Tristen bent down and picked it up. "Here, my lady," he offered, draping it over her shoulders gently. If he was chilly after a few moments in the water, she couldn't be very warm at all.
  5. "Sir Tristen," she repeated, following the knight to his feet, and dipping into a low curtsy. The move did not come across as polished as it might have in court, for the combination of the wet skirts and uneven ground made her lose a certain touch of elegance. But she was still a princess, even wet and in the mud, and she would not allow that to deter her from the formalities. "It is an honor to meet you."

    She rose from her deep curtsy before casting a critical look at her savior. For a knight, even a knight of the northern realms, he was not dressed at all how she had expected. His clothes were practically in tatters, and there was no sign of any armor or weaponry on his person. He certainly did not look the part. Alyimda quickly reprimanded herself for such thoughts. What difference did it make how he looked? He had, quite nobly, plunged into the cold river after her, and she owed her life to him.

    "I am," she replied, immediately adopting the slightly haughty air that her mother had drummed into her just for the purpose of such introductions. Her eyes were forward and bold, her posture perfect. "The lady Alyi..." she trailed off immediately, suddenly and violently reminded of precisely where she was. In all likelihood, this knight had lost family, most certainly friends, in the war against her kingdom. And while the glamor protected her from him recognizing her, her name would be the most obvious of giveaways. Her eyes dropped, and a red blush stained her pale cheeks. "Ali," she repeated, all the airs she had placed upon herself gone.

    Desperate to change the subject, Alyimda's eyes strayed back to her knight's clothes. She had no wish to embarrass him, but nor was she willing to let the silence build. "Sir knight," she asked hesitantly. "May I ask why you wear no armor, and dress in such clothes?"
  6. "It is an honor to meet you too, my lady," Tristen exclaimed, grinning. Her curtsy was graceful, despite the conditions, but then again he wasn't entirely sure what a good one looked like. After all, he'd never been higher than a low middle class, and if he had ever seen his younger sister curtsy he would have fainted from the shock.

    Standing there in clothing that was drying a little too slowly for Tristen's tastes, he couldn't help but feel a little uncomfortable. The look the young woman was giving him was a little critical, and he tried to stand up taller and look more noble, seeing as he probably looked like himself, which is to say that he looked like a peasant.

    As Tristen watched the lady go from aloof and proud, to nervous and less regal, he frowned. She seemed a little upset, but he didn't have the right to ask what had gone through her head just then. "Well, lady Ali, once again I say that it is very nice to meet you." With a quick grin to help lighten the mood again, he was shaking out his hair and trying to get it to lie relatively flat.

    Then, of course, Ali noticed his clothing, and he blushed slightly. "Uh, right, yeah. Its not exactly knightly armour, is it?" he laughed nervously before looking anywhere but Ali's eyes. "I wear no armour because I need none!" he exclaimed grandly, "You see, I wouldn’t let a sword come near enough to my body to necessitate armour. I am too quick and clever to be caught unawares! As for a sword, well, I can protect someone with a hunting knife, which is a lot easier to carry around. All I need is my knife, bow, the clothes on my back, and my noble steed Celty to be happy and safe. I have no need for unnecessary armour." Tristen gestured to himself and his horse, smiling fondly as he saw that Celty still stood behind him, munching happily away at some grass.
    #6 Kuroh, Feb 6, 2014
    Last edited: Feb 6, 2014
  7. Alyimda watched him with one eyebrow raised, but a small smile flickered across her lips as he spoke. Inside, she was nearly crying with relief. Who would have guessed that she would be blessed to have a knight such as this pull her out of the river? She had been quietly fearing that she was never going to be able to make it to the capital of Amador; that her country would be left to fight on and suffer more losses because of her inability to complete her duty. But now Sir Tristen would be able to assist her, as was only proper for any knight to do.

    There were always knights at her own palace, although her country called them Paladins. They were noble men, full of honor and fire. But even the royal guard never went out into the field without any form of armor, or at the very least a sword. She had not known that the difference between the two nations was so great, that there would be a knight out here who would wander around with no more protection than a dagger and his own skill. Surely he would be able to deliver her safely.

    "Sir knight," she said, bending her head forward submissively. It went against almost all of her training to ask for a favor, but now was not the time to worry about such things. She could not let him know just how important she was, which meant she could not order him around. "I thank you again for saving my life, but I must boldly ask one more favor of you. I was traveling towards the capital, and have a desperate need to be there as soon as possible. But I have lost my escort, and do not know my way about these lands. I beg of you, escort me to my destination, so that I may reach it in safety." She pulled his jacket a little closer over her shoulders with one hand, trying her best to drip pathetically.
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