Shadows of Gone

Zizikitty

Crazy Cat Lady
Original poster
LURKER MEMBER
FOLKLORE MEMBER
Invitation Status
  1. Looking for partners
Posting Speed
  1. 1-3 posts per day
  2. One post per day
  3. Multiple posts per week
Writing Levels
  1. Intermediate
  2. Adept
  3. Advanced
  4. Adaptable
Preferred Character Gender
  1. Male
  2. Female
Genres
Fantasy ANYTHING, magical/medieval fantasy, modern fantasy, future fantasy, high fantasy (mages and magic) sci-fi, horror, Flowing Romance (no love at first sight and nothing fluffy), vampires, werewolves, space odyssey, epic quest, adventure, combat, action, HUMOR <3, Anthro, World of Warcraft. Non-Human races.
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The town of Rat's Den was at its usual pace of hustle and bustle. Travelers and merchants alike filled the streets, shops, and tavern. The quaint town was not the finest city the orc has been in. It was just rough enough for him to feel comfortable yet not so dangerous that he’d need to break so many thieves noses whom thought they could steal from him. Then again he was an orc. Perhaps the thieves had enough sense not to even try.

Horse Mirror's Tavern was a nice place. At least from his perspective. He’d been in much worse. The pillars were intricately carved with spiral designs, although nicks and gouges dotted them. Showing a lively history to this seedy tavern.

Even sitting, the green skinned orc towered over the humans next to him. Although at seven foot one he was merely average for his people. His stout sturdy frame bore well defined chest and shoulders, which were covered only by leather straps. The rest of his form was not so muscled. Not overweight but still round.

Scars dotted his person, most prominent ones being beside his left eye and one above his broken left tusk. Although his leather and dragon scale pants were marked heavily from combat, even blood stained, his blonde hair and beard were well groomed.

His steel blue eyes scanned the room. Spying an unusual sight. Like a beacon in the darkness that was this seedy bar was an elf clad in shining gold and silver plate. His silver hair falling gracefully from the pony tail. Walking in it was clear he was either a Templar or paladin. The orc could never tell the difference but he was a warrior with the Holy Order. Someone who looked quite off in this type of place.

The orc turned back to his ale and the parchment under his huge hand. He’d been waiting, like a few others, for ‘a woman in crimson robes’ who was offering a very lucrative deal to four persons of her choosing. Something about guarding an item. Easy money, he figured.

High pitched flirty giggles drew his attention once more to the tall elf. His dashing smile, half lidded sky blue eyes and casual lean towards the bar maid said all he needed to know. In his hand was a parchment. Clearly he was looking for the hooded figure as well. Although his option seemed to be flirting his way into knowing more. But the bar maid, despite blushing, didn’t know any more than the rest of the patrons.
 
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The two were quite an odd pair, when travelling. Eloen, a vivacious wood faerie, and Sylrune, a self-deprecating elf, they were a sight to see. Eloen and her companion had come across one another by accident, as these things happen, and through much pleading and begging had finally convinced Sylrune to come out of her self-inflicted exile. Promises of adventure, and money had reignited some of the old flame in the pale winter elf. Eloen was in it simply to escape the humdrum of fae life. Too much honey wine, had cause the faerie to get in predicaments that couldn't be easily explained. It was time for a drastic change for both of the females.

As promised, Eloen held the piece of parchment in her small hands. The piece of paper that could change both of their lives. The promise had been a simple one, from that of Eloen to Sylrune. The fae had promised adventure, and friendship. If Eloen failed, she would help Sylrune disappear into the mountains as she had before Eloen dragged her out.

The faerie knew the way to the Tavern, but the directions past that were less clear. Something about meeting a woman dressed in red, which should not be that difficult, given how difficult it was to find dyes of that nature in this part of town. Though what were they to do then? What if they never found the woman? Would she go to another tavern in the next town over? Too many questions, too little answers.

"Do you know where we are going?" The white-haired elf was irritated; this was nothing new. It had been constant complaints from Sylrune the entire way down off of her mountain. About how she should never have left, how she would burn from the sun, how she would have to deal with drunken fools that she would have to stave off with her long sword.

"Shush, my friend." Eloen's wings ruffled with her own agitation, but not about Sylrune. She seemed to have become turned around somewhere. Sensing the trouble, Eloen whispered a spell into the air. The surrounding wind picked up mildly, sending loose leaves in a whirl around them. Mere moments later, several wood sprites came to her aid. Sylrune crossed her arms as she was unable to understand their little titterings and exchanges with Eloen. Kicking at some of the leaves that had just spun around, she let the fae and the sprites talk things over. No doubt, she was getting directions. Sylrune developed a snide smile from this knowledge, but said nothing.

"We must turn back for a miles walk, and then it will be to the East." A satisfied smile came over Eloen as the sprites faded out of sight.

"Whatever you say, my friend." There was a bite in Sylrune's voice, though Eloen seemed not to have caught it.

***
In the seedy town of Rat's Den, the Horse Mirror's Tavern was before them. Eloen taking her time going in, Sylrune was already seated with an ale ordered. The faerie received goosebumps from the place, Sylrune was unbothered. Finally, the fae entered and quickly sat across from her companion. Uncrumpling the parchment that had been in Eloen's pocket, she smoothed it across the tavern's table. Chugging down her ale, Sylrune peered over at the piece of paper.

"Well, faerie, do you see any women in red?" Irritation was back on the elves face.

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Zevryynheatshot.jpgZevryyn Duskriver
Brubust.jpgBrugran Beastrage

The tavern was deplorable, the elf thought, as he moved down the bar. Thanking the burly man behind it once he’d gained his drink. He also wondered how clean the wooden mug was but drank it anyways, lest he seem rude. His eyes spied the same parchment he had under the orc’s hand. Since he was the only other one to have such a paper he opted to make a conversation. Plus he had a feeling this stout man had a chance of becoming a traveling companion.

He walked to the blonde orc, clasping a hand over his chest with a heavy clunk. “U’kta.” He instantly had the orc’s attention. Steel blue eyes looked him up and down. “You speak my tongue.” He replied in common, far more perfect than the elf expected. “Mae l'ovannen.” The orc’s deep voice growled in reply. The elf blinked in surprise at the elven greeting. “And you speak mine!” He chuckled.

“Only how to greet you and ask if you have ale.” The orc chuckled, as did the elf. The elf gave a sharp turn of a military man and an elegant bow of his head. “Zevryyn Duskriver. Might I assume you are here for the coin offer?” Zevryyn motioned to the parchment under the orc’s hand. “Brugran Beastrage, and yes I am.”

His conversation was drawn away by two more unlikely souls entering the tavern. Two women, but it was the fae’s wings that caught the orc's eye. Truely, Brugran had never seen one. Zevryyn stopped mid sip upon spying the ladies. “Oh hello…” He said in a sing song voice, clearly admiring them. To this Brugran frowned at him. Before the orc could retort a reply a small figure seemed to slip past, although he didn’t see her walk through the door.

A woman shrouded in a crimson robe. Brugran’s eyes followed the figure as she warily looked around and headed to a corner of the seedy building. He looked back and the elf was making his way to Eloen and Sylrune. The orc let out a low growl as he rolled his eyes and finished his ale.

“You are well met. ‘Tis a fresh breath to see two flowers in these seedy darkened hollows.” Zevryyn clearly missed the cloaked woman to meet these two. He gave them respectful space but he was clearly trying to put on the charm. Brugran took advantage of this and made his way to the crimson hooded figure.
 
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"We just got here, you bucket of snark. May we just sit for a moment and think of a plan?" Frustrated, Eloen crossed her arms over her chest and picked idly at one of the stray threads of her handmade green gown. Biting on her bottom lip, she began to think of options, and things within their means. This, however, was rudely interrupted by a gallivanting elf heading their way. Pointed ears perking up, Eloen's wings fluttered mildly in interest. The elf spoke words of honey in their direction, had she been any other woman, she may have faltered into his arms right then and there. She knew his type though, she wouldn't be swayed so easily by pretty words from a bewitching face. Sylrune was already not having any of him.

Sylrune had her ale tankard clutched in her hand, ready to swing. Who was this fellow white-haired elf speaking to her in this manner? Not that she was of any importance, she was rather forgettable (or so was her opinion of herself).

"Step lively, pretty man. I aim where I mean to." A stark white eyebrow was raised in his direction, hand still raised with her tankard. Eloen, sensing that this could progress into a tavern brawl, she gently lowered her hand onto her companion's arm for good measure. Speaking softly in Elvish, she blanketed Sylrune in a calming spell. The elf, not affected as much as others by magick, did at least lower her tankard then. Fluttering wings, prepared for flight if need be, twitched at the ready.

As Eloen remembered the parchment laying out on the table in the open, she swiftly moved to cover up the papers contents. Hopefully, she had been quick enough. Though, movement out of the corner of Sylrune's eye snapped her out of Eloen's spell, and already jumping around in her seat. The red woman, indeed!
 
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Zevryyn wisely rocked back on his heel, giving the table, and it’s occupants, more space. “As long as you merely aim to wound me with words and not a tankard of ale.” He said pacing a hand on his chest as if an arrow had been shot there. “Be a shame, don’t you think, to waste it?” He cooed with a soft grin tugging at his lips. Still, he seemed to be fully aware now of her temper.

His blue eyes spied movement from Eloen. He noticed her hide a paper of sorts, although he had not the time to correctly identify what was written on it. Rather he kept his eyes on the other elven woman. He didn’t plan on a broken nose this evening. He decided to change the subject. “Perchance have you seen a woman in crimson robes?” He said calmly as Sylrune seemed to spy someone.

A couple of patrons along with the orc made there way to the crimson hooded figure. “O-one at a time!” She hissed in a hushed tone, although not as quiet as hoped. Brugran folded his arms and leaned against a pillar as the other two tavern patrons spoke up. But she pointed a gloved hand at the orc, “You. You there. You look dangerous.” She said in a raspy voice.

“I can be very dangerous.” He growled low. “And I take my charges very seriously.” She nodded and hurriedly waved her hand. “Ok you’re hired. Ok… Ok n-need three more…” She said looking the other two patrons over. If Zevryyn, Eloen, and Sylrune didn’t speak up they might lose their chance!
 
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Sylrune raised a brow in his direction, though all of her evil thoughts were interrupted by his mention of lady in red. Eloen was moments away from asking how he knew of such a woman, when the very woman in question began speaking to an orc. Impressed by the brutes massive height, both the fae and the elf spun around the watch the exchange happening. So, this orc had secured a spot so easily? Eloen needed that promised money that the parchment spoke of. She was not one to pass judgement quickly, but she was almost certain that this orc might be in it purely for the adventure.

"Lady!" Sylrune yelled across the tavern. Wincing, Eloen closed an eye from her loud tone. Every head in the Horse Mirror's Tavern snapped in their direction. Waving gingerly at the faces before them, Sylrune was up and walking towards the woman in red. The elf was not tall in stature, but her attitude was big enough for her. "We want two of those spots you're offering. Do not think of even asking about our credentials. We can hold our own."

The woman in red nodded her head, although somewhat apprehensively at the white-haired elf. With that said, Eloen was now at Syl's side, holding the piece of paper out in front of her. The red woman looked at the paper with a bemused expression, then nodded her head at Eloen.

"All right. Three spots spoken for, one spot remaining. Any takers?" Holding the palms of her hand to the ceiling, she awaited someone to speak up. She would not wait around this tavern long, she had other places that she could find travelers for her quest.
 
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Zevryyn jerked his head when Eloen yelled so loudly, then darted his head towards where the fae was yelling. Raising a brow curiously to the woman in red, and the small group surrounding her. He decided to mentally shift gears and now took on a more serious tone. A rare moment indeed for the skirt chasing elf. He loosely followed the two women but not so close he’d be mistaken for being part of their group.

Brugran crossed his arms and listened to the interaction. So he was to travel with the two ladies. He was not one to judge but he hoped they truly could hold their own. Zevryyn himself was surprised at the quickness the ladies were picked.

“Oi, I’ll be tha’ last one, eh? You, step off!” One of the burly men barked at the other man beside him. “Get off’et then! I got the deadliest blades this side of the Rentas!” He retorted. Clearly the woman in red was more annoyed than convinced by their bickering. “Might you need a holy warrior to protect what you need?”

Silence between the men and the cloaked women. She did appear to shy away from him at first. Muttering something under breath. “Perhaps it is fate?”

Please not him.
The orc thought. Last thing he needed to deal with was him causing the two others already chosen to bicker constantly but all those hopes went out the door. “Yes. Yes you are my fourth. Yes. Yes all chosen me. You two, shoo.” She flittered her hands at the other two men. Disgruntled they seemed to obey, but they dangerously eyed the group. "My companions!" Zevryyn said in a chipper tone to the other three, arms held open and aloft. Brugran growled lowly and rolled his eyes, following the woman with no word.
 
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Eloen looked from Sylrune, to the orc, to the other elf. This was not the gallivanting explorer party she had been imagining. Then again, she had not ever imagine that she would be actually able to go adventuring! Though, she would be amiss if she was to think that she was happy with this groups outcome. Between the sulking elf, the flirtatious pretty boy, and the rough-and-tough orc, Eloen was going to have a time keeping the peace. Casting another look at Sylrune, she saw the elf get up from the table finally.

The white-haired elf looked at the finalized party. Crossing her arms defiantly, she lifted a pale brow. She looked to the red woman, but knew better than to question the final decision. The promised monetary value was worth too much to start a squabble now.

"What is our mission, Red Lady?" Sylrune looked at her expectantly, though the woman in red spoke not. Getting slightly impatient, the elf waiting while shifting her weight from foot to foot. Sensing her unease, Eloen placed her hand on the elf's shoulder. Syl's shoulders were taught with tension.

"Let us all take to more private standings, perhaps?" Eloen let her eyes wander to the prying eyes of the other tavern goers. They made it no secret that they were interested in what was unfolding.

"Aye," was all the woman in red said. "Let us go to the back corner of the tavern. My fair fae, could you produce a screen of silence around us all?" The woman looked to Eloen with a glint in her eye.

"Aye," Eloen retorted, as she had walked over to the spot in question. Muttering an incantation, careful to let no one hear, a silvery wall of light covered the corner. "Come, it will not hurt you." Eloen smiled to the orc and new elf, as she walked past the light, with the company of the woman in red. Sylrune was not far behind.
 
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“No? Well we’ll all have much time to gain one another’s trust.” Zevryyn said in a chipper tone as he followed the group, undeterred by the lack of enthusiasm from his new companions. Both men remained quiet as the women spoke. Both following and pausing to gaze upon the silvery curtain the fae cast. Zevryyn was aware of such magic though he had not the talent to cast such a spell. He knew enough that there was no harm in it’s casting.

Without hesitation he slipped through the veil and took a seat beside the woman in red, giving the other two enough space. Then he looked up. Brugran on the other hand was looking at the transparent veil with dubious skepticism. He leered away and poked the thin veil. “I don’t trust this hooby jooby.” He said with a thin growl.

“Hooby what? By the gods it’s just magic.” Zevryyn said with a head shake. “Exactly. If I don’t understand it I don’t trust it.”

The elf shrugged. “Fine. Stay out there and hear nothing of the mission at hand.” This prompted the orc to huff and inch forward. Poking the veil again with a meaty finger before jolting through. Rolling his shoulders as if shaking the spell off him. He looked most displeased but he sat down eventually. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” The elf’s remark earned a scowl from the orc.

As the men glared and spoke, the Red Lady pulled a satchel hidden under her cloak to her lap. She pulled back the flap to reveal a worn wooden chest, which was about the side of a book or large jewelry box. As she pulled the satchel down to reveal more of the box it was clear it was bound with black iron and huge sturdy lock. Those attuned with magic would be able to sense a powerful spell upon the box as well. A secondary lock keeping its mystery object well protected.

The Red Lady seemed even more paranoid or irritated. It was hard to tell with her face covered. She waited for everyone to be seated before she spoke and put the box on the table to all to see.