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Author Topic: Against Better Judgement  (Read 2792 times)

Vashti Ada Tohrein

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Against Better Judgement
« on: July 16, 2013, 01:34:00 AM »
    The farther she trekked into the southernmost parts of the land, into the forest of Drúadan, the more sour the air became, more dangerous, more wicked; its perils obvious. But the mercenary, if only for her own stubbornness, had silenced the dread and instead had pushed on without hesitation - even if it rung violently against her better judgement.

Maybe the elf had been right; this was going to be far more challenging than she had originally expected.

It was amazing how quickly everything spiraled out of control, how once the mission that had been so clear to the mercenary was now marred. The mercenary cut through the forest with particular ease, zigzagging across the trees and through the short, dirty grasses of the forest floor. Arrows flew around her head, the bitter cries that called for blood following her every step. The fight that had been to bring the destruction of an Orc scouting party she had been after devolved into one against exhaustion and pain. Unlike previous groups that the woman had encountered and fought, these orc archers were well-honed and trained far beyond what she thought them to be capable. They were fast, viciously accurate as well, so much so that there was nothing that Vashti Tohrein hated more.

Never once did the mercenary stop moving, never once did she fall, even when a sudden blow made her footing falter.

The bite of metal against tender flesh was unmistakable – it was a pain that could not be compared to anything else. The sensation was gentle at first, a dull throbbing that hindered movements, but one that grew progressively sharper with time. In a matter of seconds, the dull ache that once could have been easily dismissed became a blinding pain that refused to be ignored. And while with the years the mercenary had forced herself to learn to cope with the pain until the battle was done, it was becoming progressively harder to ignore the arrow jutting out of her shoulder.

Vashti ducked suddenly out of sight, a wall of trees becoming her asylum. She heaved, her breathing fast and jagged, as she pressed her head back into the tree. Blood seeped through the opening of her shoulder, pushing past the dark wood of the arrow and dribbling into the once white fabric of her shirt. Cold sweat ran down Vashti’s back as the belated pain seared through her body – running from the tip of her fingertips to the ball of her shoulder. Fingers slick with a mixture of dark orc blood and her own curled around the arrow’s shaft and in a single, swift movement was pulled. The mercenary bit back a scream that clawed from the pit of her stomach, muscles twitching as white pain overtook her. The air was forced from her lungs as she slumped against the tree, holding unto it with the same desperation exhibited by a drowning man.

The snap of a branch.

Reaction took over the mercenary as she moved away from the first swing. Vashti’s hand shot up, Manyu secured, in time to meet the Orc’s second swing. The blow was violent as a torrential rain – or perhaps even more so. Vashti’s knees buckled under the blow, but remained undaunted under the creature’s blade, even as her body shook in painful waves. If anything, the threat of the blades lingering near her face encouraged the woman’s plight to survive. Vashti pushed the blades apart, an audible grunt forced through her lips at the exertion. Freed from the Orc’s blade, the mercenary swung her own to the side, connecting under the creature’s ribs. The shrill cry that followed was deafening, the cracking and splitting of skin and bone signaling its efficiency. And as the orc fell to the ground, all the mercenary could do was heave – Yes, the elf had definitely been right.

Vashti dragged herself forward, her legs unable to carry her fast enough. It was mere seconds as heavy stomps signaled the arrival of the rest of the orcs – the remaining three of a party of nine. Needless to say, their twisted faces and bared teeth left little to the imagination – they were out for blood. Apparently downing five of their members, now six with the one that had tasted her blade, had only managed to flare up their tempers. Vashti winced as she turned, blade barely held by her slack fingers. Even with the threat of death dancing before her eyes, little could be done to stop the sharp words from leaving her lips, “You soddin’ arses.” She scoffed, sweat running heavily from the side of her face, “You should have run when I gave you the chance.”

They charged – and without second thought, so did she.[/li][/list]

Sahib Haşim

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Against Better Judgement
« Reply #1 on: July 16, 2013, 04:11:00 AM »
Oh she was such a pain! She argued everything under the sun and she seemed to have a comment for everything anyone said, she was such a nuisance! Funny thing, though, the Elf had been on her way back from Gondor and she seemed to have a small sack of apples, which of course he took the liberty of devouring, certainly more tasteful than what he’d been eating the last couple of weeks. Sparrow’s dark eyes scanned the sleeping figure of his captive before returning to the forest. They had both slept peacefully through the night, nothing to disturb them until the early morning. The sun filtered through the branches, the grass was brown and scattered, the trees tall. What had woken the dark sleeping figure was rather extraordinary, according to him. Of course he had known about the Orc pack that seemed to live in the woods, but he thought little of them and didn’t bother to disturb them, and in return didn’t bother with him. Sparrow kept alert while his captive slept on, her side rising and falling in peaceful slumber – by her quite ramblings it hadn’t been the first time she was captive of someone or something.

No too deep in the forest, amidst the changing leaves his keen ears picked up the sounds of feet and familiar cries of Orcs after their prey. Whoever the unfortunate soul had been, he didn’t care, but he would care if they came anywhere near him and the camp he had set up. They would all be in for a little surprise when they tasted the blade of his sword. In speaking of, he kept a hand on the hilt just in case. A loud shriek came from within the forest, closer than Sparrow had expected, which disturbed his sleeping captive. “What was that?” She whispered, alert. Silently, Sparrow moved to her side, saying nothing. Was she really that stupid not to recognize the sound of Orcs? “If they get any closer, we may have to fight.” Of course she wouldn’t get very far if she tried to escape, she knew that already, hopefully she wouldn’t be stupid enough to try again! Oh the shame to be even remotely related to such an annoying creature!

 “Now we're getting somewhere with conversation, that’s the most you’ve said since three days ago!” Giving her a hearty slap in the face, she was silent but her eyes spoke volumes and the venomous glare she gave him he returned. He had no time for her stupidity; hopefully she would prove useful in a fight! Once he had untied her bonds she grabbed her bow and knocked an arrow it, preparing for whatever was going to come charging through the woods at any given moment. Good, at least she was corporative for the time being.

Taking a hold of his long bow, for his cross bow had been taken from him temporarily by – believe it or not – the same band of Orcs that were roaming about the forest now. About a week ago he had, had it taken from him and of course any chance to get it back was a chance worth taking, not that he wasn’t skilled with a long bow. Marking their camp, Sparrow moved silently into the morning shadows, the she-Elf right behind him. What her name rightly was, he did not know, nor did he care.

Six feet, seven feet, eight feet then an arrow shot past his head and sank into the bark of the tree he was just coming around. Instantly the she-Elf came up the other side of the tree, which was followed the dying sounds of an Orc makes when it feels it has been assaulted unjustly. This was followed by a sudden flow of movement in their direction. Orcs, no matter how smart they seemed to think they were, were never very clever when it came to silence.

Orc blood stained Sahib’s blade as he cut through the jungle of Orc scum with much practiced grace and ease. Five or six times the blade of his enemy came too close to his face, and the one who would try to mar his dark features would be swiftly cut down. As this side of the forest came to a still rest, while what was left of the Orcs went to join the remainder of their pack in attacking whoever had disturbed them first. Sahib looked around for his captive. She was leaning against a tree, hugging her side and her right cheek was bleeding. Too bad, she had been a pretty thing, but the experience would do her stupid, slow mind well. She only glared at him, nothing needed to be said as he handed her was belonged to her, which she snatched out of his hands as if he were about to take them away before she could get to them.  

Come.” He said simply, taking off in the direction the Orcs had run. “We are not going after the-” He turned and gave her a look that told her everything she could ever want to know. She gave a reluctant groan and followed him through the forest…

Sparrow knew they were on the right trail when more cries echoed through the forest. What a morning this had turned out to be! Pleasantly unexpected and his captive was keeping up rather well considering her injuries. Sword in one hand and bow in the other, he re-entered the battlefield and was quick to notice the feminine figure – which was distinctly not Elvish – caught in the center of the Orc party.

So, this woman had been the cause for the disturbance, stupid girl!


out of cookies;
I do hope it is alright, sorry for the repetitive, he was insistent upon it and Ginger is near ready to kill me! If you want to go ahead and have Ginger and Vash be acquainted then by all means!
speech color code: 5D1785


played by Hades

Vashti Ada Tohrein

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Against Better Judgement
« Reply #2 on: July 17, 2013, 02:18:00 AM »
    Her movements were strained, slow and labored when they would have once flowed in a seamless motion. But while it seemed that the arrow had taken the strength from her blows, little had it done to take her relentlessness. Like a caged animal, Vashti attacked – unabashed and unrestrained. With every swing the Orcs gave, the mercenary readily met their blade with her own, a swing of a fist with a carefully measured side-step. But as minutes dragged, waves of pain and constant attacks berating her tired body, it was becoming painfully obvious that this had possibly been the worst idea she could have devised. Would it be too late to take the offer of aid from Eira?

    Manyu tasted blood - connecting easily to an Orc’s side.

    Her mind was flashing. She could feel the wind rushing past every bit of exposed skin, tugging at her clothes. The weight of her body, feeling so suddenly unsupported as it yielded to speed, made Vashti feel as if her legs took her faster than before. The world around her became a flash of colors and lights, barely recognizable. A flash of silver, the shrill cry of metal meeting metal, growling and gurgled grunts, pain - that is all her senses could make. Every movement her body followed, every connection made by her blades, seemed like a moment suspended in time. A fist collided into her jaw; the blow forcing her back into a tree. Vashti twisted around, but she wasn’t fast enough – she barely had enough time to jump back as the orc’s blade swung forward. Forced back again and again, the mercenary gritted her teeth, half aware of how closer the blade was getting.

    It was pure luck that saved her.

    The dull thud of blade meeting wood greeted her ears. In one of the creature’s wild swings, the blade had connected with the edge of a tree. Vashti moved swiftly, her free hand shooting out and taking a hold of the final Orc’s breastplate. There was a shrill cry echoing in her ears as she brought her head down, connecting in full with the beast’s brow. He stumbled back – and so did she – recovering in time only to see as the remaining group - surprised, to her little knowledge, by the two elves that stood to the side - stumbled away from the mercenary and out of sight. Her posture, however, remained tense as ever – her shoulders a straight line and the muscles of her jaw taut. Vashti was vaguely aware of how her chest rose and fell in ragged breaths, or how her fingers fervently held unto her blade for support. Truth be told is that the mercenary was even unaware of how she lifted her arm to her forehead, wiping sweat and blood from her brow.

“Go on, run.” She heaved painfully after a few seconds, eyes trailing after the retreating forms of the remaining Orcs. “Just you wait until I get my hands on you!” She called out without particular intent - so far the way things appeared to be did not particularly lull the mercenary into a false sense of security. It would be a couple of days - at least - before she could go and finish the job. She kicked herself mentally, a string of curses rolling from her tongue - she should have asked Beriadan for a larger sum. Vashti leaned down to retrieve Ahura, though quickly regretted it. She stumbled forward unceremoniously, quickly forced to use her blades to keep herself from falling. The tips of her blade sunk noiselessly into the soft ground, barely able to support the mercenary’s weight. Vashti chuckled callously, her eyes low, a small wince gracing her lips - as if the realization of the situation she found herself in hurt more than the reopening of her split lip.

She leaned forward into the blades, arms quivering at the continued exertion. Her mind soon forgot of the way her body complained against her movements, the sound of faint footsteps causing her neck to snap up. She glanced slowly across the clearing, a measured movement that made her body taut. What her azure eyes did find, however, was no short of confusing to Vashti - and quite the sight that was. It was the man with the swarthy skin that first caught her attention - a deep shade that most of lands found themselves devoid of - as was his curious outfit. But, perhaps what drew the mercenary’s attention further away from the bloody remains that marred the brown grounds was the sight of a familiar, and much unexpected, face. It was a face that she had come to know over the past couple of weeks under rather curious circumstances, a face that had belonged to a companion of hers, a face that last she had seen had found safe haven near the city of Minas Tirith when last they met. Yet, here she stood, looking as well as the mercenary did, sweat and blood marring her skin.

“G-ginger?” Vashti breathed the name in half disbelief, the tip of her tongue running listlessly across her lower lip. The metallic taste of blood filled her senses, prompting the mercenary to spit out in distaste. The blades sunk lower into the ground, prompting the mercenary to move slightly back. Vashti pushed herself up, or tried to at least, but quickly regretted it with an audible hiss. Pursing her lips tightly, Vashti forced herself to her full stature once more; whether it was pride that made it unable for her to show weakness or stubbornness to find herself defeated by the hands of Orcs one cannot be sure, but the motivation was enough for her to move. She straightened up, slowly, carefully, the muscles of her back indiscriminately pulling at her throbbing wound.

Suddenly, the mercenary smiled, a pained display that seemed more reminiscent of a grimace. “Please tell me that this is not that damned bird of yours...” Vashti begun, nodding her head towards the dark skinned male. Last thing the mercenary’s throbbing mind needed was to learn that the owl that had become a constant pest - even if it was oddly amusing in his own way - had all of the sprouted legs and arms, and turned into one of the cursed elven races. Her eyes lolled from one figure to the next, studying the male carefully before turning towards his companion. “...and if it is, I will be most disappointed if I don’t see a dragon coming out of someone’s arse next - hopefully not mine, I may add.” She concluded with a weary smile, the shaking of her body betraying the carelessness of her voice. What she would not do for a pint of mead - or two.[/li][/list]


ooc; oh gosh, poor ginger! i don’t blame her for being so upset! no worries, vash will help you! eventually - when she's not about to fall into pieces = v = b also, please feel free to let me know if you'd like anything changed

Sahib Haşim

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Against Better Judgement
« Reply #3 on: July 25, 2013, 05:30:00 PM »
Why, of all things did it have to be a woman who disturbed the Orcs? Wasn’t there enough trouble with them already? But then, women are always causing trouble, it seemed, much more than men. Not that Sparrow didn’t like women he had, had a few in his employ that had been excellent at their job! The quality of their work was equal to his own and seldom better, but scanning the ground and viewing the trampled ground, he could tell this woman had probably gotten in over her head. It was lucky he had been in the area, otherwise she would be dead. The entire happenings made him wonder what she was doing here to begin with. As he thought about all this he kept his eyes on the ground, looking for the familiar build of his cross bow. Perhaps one of the brutes had dropped it or died with it in its hands! What luck he would have, and such luck was not often in his favor. So, when he didn’t find what he was looking for, he turned his attention to the strange woman. She was leaning on a blade and Sparrow raised an eyebrow as his keen eyes scanned her visible wounds. A list of herbs was immediately gathered in his mind, both from his home land and what he had studied in Gondor when he had been lodging there.

If it weren’t for the fact that a price was on his head back in Rûhn, he would leave both girls and head back home to what he had left! He had only just begun to examine the woman when her attention was drawn to his captive – and some help she had been! But he supposed if he hadn’t been for the Elf, it would have taken a little longer to achieve the goal of scaring off the Orcs. However, it wasn’t like he really needed her help to begin with! Yet, the she-Elf’s name was spoken – a curious thing was that it wasn’t Elvish at all! – And spoken in recognition. A corner of his mouth lifted in a smirk as Ginger spoke the other woman’s name in surprise. “Tohrien!” Ginger paced herself as she went over to her friend.

Tohrien tried to set herself up, but found herself instead struggling to do so. Sparrow’s dark eyes narrowed as he got a better idea of her wounds than it appeared on the outer surface. He would question her, but that would have to wait. “Please tell me that is not that dammed bird of yours…” Her smile wasn’t reassuring as she joked around with Ginger, but the she-Elf laughed lightly at the comment and Tohrien continued, “...and if it is, I will be most disappointed if I don’t see a dragon coming out of someone’s arse next - hopefully not mine, I may add.” Well, she was all attitude wasn’t she? This didn’t impress Sahib in the least. Of all his experience with women, they each had their own way hiding something… pain, love, hate… it varied depending on the woman, but the mask was there. Women were very complex creatures, but enough of that. He wasn’t going to stand around any longer for fear that the Orcs would return, and in greater number.

In the distance he could hear them. They were noisy annoying beings. “I wouldn’t be surprised in the least.” Ginger said, the smile fading, “I wish it was Dénor, my friend. I am sorry to say that I have no idea who this man is… he –” Ginger stopped speaking at the drop of a feather when he shot her a look that clearly said ‘Shut up!’. This woman spoke too much. In a split second he was by Tohrien’s side. “I do not appreciate being speculated.” His accent was foreign sounding even to him, “Let us get those wounds taken care of.” Sparrow didn’t speak often, but he was direct and to the point. If this woman was going to fulfill the threats she made to the Orcs, she needed to be brought back to health as quickly as possible. He glanced at Ginger, who was gazing at him and he read the suspicion on her face as clear as daylight. She wanted to say something, but she didn’t – which was a relief to him as his patience with Ginger was growing short.

You will help her, and we will take her back to my camp.” Sparrow barked at Ginger, she had no choice. He turned and didn’t care to see the scowl on Ginger’s face, just so long as she did as she was told.

Moving among the trees, Sahib only twice looked back to see if Ginger and her friend were following behind him. Once he reached his camp, he went immediately to the sack that carried his herbs. Pulling out the black cloth that held his herbs he found a flat rock and carefully unrolled it. The various herbs that were left over from his home land were painful reminders of his past life, not that he needed the herbs to be reminded of his home. Sighing quietly he prepared the herbs he would need for the job at hand…


out of cookies;
Ha, I hope everything is alright, if anything needs to be changed let me know. As far as getting to Sahib's camp, you can just have Ginger help Vashti if it is convenient... :3
speech color code: 5D1785


played by Hades

Vashti Ada Tohrein

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Against Better Judgement
« Reply #4 on: August 05, 2013, 06:04:00 AM »
    It took a little more than strong will and thankfulness combined to force Vashti’s jaw shut - and much more than that to stop the mercenary from taking a swing at the male right then and there - not that she would have done much considering that her legs felt they had been filled with led. While she and Ginger were not close by any means, the poor girl knowing nothing of her name besides Tohrein, Vashti was not fond of having others berated before her for no reason. As far as she had seen, the elf and she had merely struck a conversation - a nicety to lighten the rather curious turn of events that brought them to this place. Yet, this cursed elf, as she had yet to know the name his kin took for themselves, had found insult to what Ginger had said. Instead, Vashti stood there, eyes narrowed and lips tight, simply watching as the elf turned on his heel and begun to move. For a few seconds, the mercenary said nothing, azure eyes trailing after him listlessly, before she turned to the female to her side. Vashti opened her mouth to say something, but seemed to hesitate, taking her time instead to secure her blades into place.
“He is definitely not Dénor, like you said; I do not think he would find any race to be dignified enough for his tastes.” Vashti suddenly said with an apologetic smile, though not understanding the severe situation she had stumbled upon.

There was something quite off about this whole relationship between the two elves, if she were bold enough to even call it that, and it made Vashti’s skin crawl. Whatever had happened in those short days since she had parted ways with the elf and owl, had definitely dragged Ginger into a most unusual - and unfortunate - of situations. It took no scholarly or educated mind to see this, just good eyes. Eyes that could see the scowl that burned into the he-elf’s head as he walked away, or the hesitant twitch that Ginger gave as she slid an arm underneath Vashti’s shoulder. There was even something quite forlorn in the apologetic smile that Ginger gave her as the sudden intrusion, as kind as the gesture to aid her was, pulled an unwilling curse from Vashti’s lips. But perhaps nothing was as quite odd as the quiet resignation with which Ginger complied - no complaint, no snide remark in regards to his attitude, just silence.

It was quite - troublesome.

They moved - or tried to at least - but Vashti’s steps came as hindered and slow. With movements far more apt to be considered a stroll rather than a desperate plight to see herself healed, the two women followed. They had said nothing for several minutes, the tension - not between themselves but rather with the elf farther ahead - palpable in the air. It was the mercenary that finally broke the silence, an oof hitched in Vashti’s throat as her footing faltered, “You know,” she started, her voice low, “...I do not believe I’ve ever seen a brighter ray of sunshine than he appears to be.” Vasthi continued with the aside, ignoring the forest floor that seemed to be far more tacky than she remembered it being. “It is amazing really.” Nevertheless, a forced smile later, silence befell them again. It was the last Vashti tried speaking while they continued to move.

Minutes dragged far slower than Vashti would have thought it to be possible, but it did not take long after that for the makeshift camp to come into sight. Even as a cold sweat took the mercenary by surprise, little did it do to prevent her from glancing quickly around the camp. It was nothing extraordinary, the woman would admit as her eyes fell upon the charred remains of branches and leafs, though no camp of a traveler ever was. It was entirely set up for utilitarian purposes and this one was no exception.

She was given no time to examine her surroundings further as she was led on yet again, though this time towards the elf that sat immersed in his work. Vashti slid her arm from over Ginger’s shoulder one they stopped and instead had it flop silently to her side. She cringed at the sudden motion, but it did not show - that is, if one were to ignore the crinkling of her nose. Well, that is going to get annoying, she thought with a grimace. Vasthi needed no invitation as she loosened the belt that secured her vest into place, placing it at her feet. Her blades followed the motion silently and quickly were missed by their owner, the weight that had once brought security to Vashti missing. She shrugged off the vest as carefully as she could, but found no comfort as the weight left her. As soon as the thick layer of fur matted with blood was pulled from her frame, Vashti hissed as the breath of crisp air hit the raw, throbbing gash and the puncture that continued to bleed into her once white shirt. While not entirely comforting, at the very least if she continued to feel pain it meant that she was still breathing. Again, it was not comforting, but at least it was better than seeing herself dead.

“I’ll have you know that most people here are not keen of strangers speaking ill to their colleagues, they consider it to be rude.” The mercenary suddenly chuckled but quickly regretted it, the painful contraction of her diaphragm causing her stomach to churn. So maybe doing a bit less of talking currently appeared to be a brilliant approach. Vashti heaved, sucking the air sharply through her gritted teeth. As her body cooled from the minutes of arduous exertion, the throbbing pain that had once made its presence known in sudden waves was now replaced by a searing pang that never quite seemed to leave. The mercenary cursed audibly, if only for her own stupidity, before settling herself down on the ground. Vashti swallowed hard, head propped pathetically against the inside of her hand - perhaps it would be best for her to invest in something more apt in stopping arrows and blades than what her vest happened to be.

Vashti’s gaze flickered up and towards the elf, her careful eyes watching his hands work with herbs whose names she did not quite know. “What do you got there?” She found herself asking without expecting an answer, not that she would mind if he gave none.[/li][/list]ooc; it was a wonderful post as usual - and thank you! that was very convenient, yes, I did try not to godmod Ginger too much. anyways, please let me know if you would like anything added / changed :3

Sahib Haşim

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« Reply #5 on: August 30, 2013, 10:45:00 PM »
It hadn’t taken long, but it took a lot longer than expected to get Tohrien in her grips so they move smoothly enough to not trip over every branch that just happened to be in their way. Ginger didn’t fancy doing it, it seemed that the woman could take care of herself – thank you very much. They had only been ‘friends’ for a short amount of time, if you wanted to say they were friends. Carting apples from Lake Town to Gondor hadn’t exactly been her idea of ‘fun’, not that Ginger was pleased at all to share the load, but Mrs. Opal had insisted, and when she insists you don’t argue. That was just how things with Mrs. Opal worked. When the she-Elf figured out who it was that had given the woman the hint of the job, she had to suppress her anger and just deal with it. Dénor had a bad habit of trying to find Ginger someone else to converse with so that he could go off and do his own thing. Surprisingly, though, the owl had stayed with them the entire journey from point A to point B. There must have been something about Tohrien that interested him greatly. Once they reached Gondor he had gone off to find something else to entertain him and possibly cause Ginger more heartburn.

He is definitely not Dénor, like you said; I do not think he would find any race to be dignified enough for his tastes.” Vashti said, the truth that rang in her words was undeniable. Heaven help her if Dénor was a shifter, fortunately though, she had watched him hatch, and trained him through the short months, at the time they had felt longer than years! Glancing ahead he watched Sparrow move through the trees towards their camp. Saying nothing in turn to Tohrien, Ginger helped her along as best she could. Accommodating to Vashti as they moved through the forest, Ginger was suddenly over come with a curious desire to know what Tohrien was doing in the part of the forest, and why she decided to take on a battalion of Orcs on her own. Just as the she-Elf was about to ask, Tohrien’s footing faltered unexpectedly and the mercenary let out an oof. “You know,” Tohrien’s voice was low as she continued, “...I do not believe I’ve ever seen a brighter ray of sunshine than he appears to be.

It is amazing really.”A small smile came to Ginger’s features for the first time since being barked at, but Sparrow wouldn’t have found it amusing in the least. He was ahead of them, moving silently through the trees with practiced ease, one thing on his mind: What to do with the wounded idiot! It was foolish of this Tohrien to try and take on a pack of Orcs the way she had. Sparrow had learned on his first encounter with them they were skilled, if not driven by savage rage, with their weapons. The curiosity that was this woman plagued in the back of his mind. Would he have to use tactics to get the truth from her, or, could he simply ask? Just asking would indeed be easier, but he wouldn’t be the one to do it.

He had reached the camp first not expecting the women to be along for some time, a little more than thirty minutes which would be just enough time to collect everything he needed. Opening a carefully wrapped piece of cloth, he gazed down at the herbs that reminded him of his home. He had to suppress his feelings of longing and remind himself that he could never go back no matter what he did or said. Charm wasn’t something that Sahib was well practiced in, he didn’t care for it. He liked to get to the point rather than dance around speaking with fancy words that were meant to impress rather than get the problem at hand.

Something moved among the trees, blocking the early morning sunlight that filtered through the autumn colored leaves. Leaving it to coincidence, Sahib went on to prepare the herbs he thought he would need. Five minutes passed and still the women had not shown but the movement happened again, this time to his right. Cutting his eyes to his right he caught no glimpse of whatever it was that now, definitely, there. “Here we are…” It was Ginger’s soft, annoying voice speaking to her friend. Sahib turned and watched as the women, completely unaware of the potential danger they were in. He watched as Ginger tried to help Tohrien settle herself in a comfortable (or as comfortable as one could get in this place) position. The injured woman removed her belt and Sahib was not surprised by the wound which the ‘brave’ woman had acquired. It was quite a trophy, if one wanted to look at it that way.

Turning back to his herbs he ignored Tohrien’s words about ill speaking and rudeness, not caring if it came off as rude that he didn’t respond. He was busy mixing and preparing herbs when the woman asked, much to his annoyance, “What do you got there?” It was obvious, wasn’t it? He was preparing to help her! If she didn’t want it then he would tend to his own wounds and leave Ginger to tend to her own as well! He was quite capable of doing so. But, with his profession as a healer – and secret studier of the art of poison – he felt obligated to help her, even if it wasn’t in the way he secretly wanted. There was nothing like a kind hand to help you on your path to ‘the other side’ than someone who deals in poison.

I preparing to help you, and if you will hold still, it will not hurt.As much, He added silently. It took a moment for him to find the bandages and cleaning supplies he needed, and he gather his concoction of herbs – which had been blended together to form a paste – and he moved over to Tohrien. Without waiting for her permission, which he figured she would complain about as well, he started to tend to her wound. Without any interference it would take him ten minutes to patch the woman up, with interference it would take forever. Motioning with a wave of his hand for Ginger to go and make herself comfortable somewhere else he just barely caught the small sigh she gave. He waited, anticipating Ginger to begin the inquiries. It took only a couple moments before he felt satisfied, “I hate to intrude upon your personal affairs, my friend, but the hell were you thinking!?” Ginger’s voice was a mixture of amusement and honesty, or so Sahib felt, “You could have gotten yourself killed. I’m almost afraid to ask if you just happened to walk right into them or were purposefully pursuing them…” Ginger wasn’t about to admit that she was afraid of the answer, but it had to be asked, even if no answer came, and even if the answer was sarcastic and short, not really answering much of anything.  

double O to the C |
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Vashti Ada Tohrein

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« Reply #6 on: September 03, 2013, 08:42:00 PM »
    The touch first came as a surprise to the mercenary, reaction forcing her shoulder to jerk away. She would have gone further still as to reach for her missing blades as well had the pain not reminded her that she was, in fact,
safe. Or safer than she had been less than an hour ago. Vashti’s posture was as taut as ever, muscles drawn tight, even as she reminded herself to ease down and let the elf do his ‘damn’ job. Whether it was exasperation at the woman’s untimely reaction - or a desire to state the obvious in regards to their current situation - the male spoke.

“I preparing to help you, and if you will hold still, it will not hurt.” She blinked. Really, now?

Had it been under different circumstances Vashti would have laughed - a loud, mirthful sound that would have been unrestrained and unabashed; instead she found all sound drained from her lips, all words scattered from her brain as the paste touched the raw wound. The burning was as sharp as it was persistent, a sensation that caused Vashti’s brow to furrow and her teeth to grind. But while the mercenary was left to wallow in her own stupidity - and the subsequent pain it caused - her mind was left to run. It will not hurt. If there was ever a lie that crossed the lips of thieves and mothers alike that had to be it. Like an ominous cloud, it hovered about their heads whenever a wound was being treated or bone being mend. “Like sod it doesn’t hurt...” The mercenary bitterly thought, her breathing shaky and slow, “...that alone is just as bad as an ill-placed ‘what could possibly go wrong?’”[/color] Just about everything, the mercenary would add in an aside, and perhaps even more. Granted, the latter provided room for Vashti to haggle a higher pay whether her employer liked it or not.

The burning was subsiding, her body perceiving it as a gentle throb. There was something oddly comforting about the situation, if only in its familiarity. There were a number of times when Vashti had found herself in similar situation as this, hunching over herself, elbows digging listlessly into her knees, as apt hands treated one wound or another. Sometimes there was cursing, arguments spat, then there were times when there was laughter, incredulous at their luck; then, there were times when the pain was blinding, when her cries were stifled by her biting down into a leather belt. Those were the times when her feverish mind begged for death, when she tried finding comfort in the embrace of the endless black. She would drift in and out of consciousness, vaguely aware of how close she was to seeing her wish come true. Her eyes unconsciously traveled to her shoulder, bare and marred with her blood; there, a few inches below her new addition sat the bubbling remnants of an old scar - pink, visible, and equally raw.

She did not remember the moment when that wound was being treated, how the wound in her back had been a pain to heal - becoming infected twice in the process - or how lucky she had been that the blow in her head had not been a little lower. Vashti remembered the pain of her healing body shortly after her waking, about how half of her body was black and blue, and swollen, the other half riddled with scars and bruised ribs. Most of all, however, the mercenary remember the desperation. Vashti remembers how powerless she felt those minutes before the darkness came, before the kindhearted Alyan found her body floating in Lhûn. The mercenary remembers how she clung desperately to the side of the wall of rocks, her pitiful cries swallowed by the waters below. She remembers those moments of solitude, how the realization of death dawned upon her. She would die alone, Vashti remembers thinking, in a foreign land away from home. Vashti cringed, her shoulder suddenly rearranged. Perhaps, the mercenary concluded, part of her had. Her gaze drifted away as quickly as they came to the old scar, the mud in her boots becoming increasingly interesting after that.

Thankfully, the fates would not allow her to dwell on such dark thoughts for long, redirecting her attention to her companions instead. “I hate to intrude upon your personal affairs, my friend, but the hell were you thinking!?”

Vashti’s gaze flickered up as the more familiar voice of Ginger rung out through the clearing, the elf’s question echoing in her mind. For several seconds, the mercenary uttered no sound, a bemused smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “I could say that I just happened upon the ill-tempered group by pure and unadulterated luck, or lack of it,” she begun slowly, “but we both know how that rings hollow.” You could not cover the sun with your thumb, she once heard someone say - as hard as the mercenary would try. Ginger was not a foolish one, the mercenary knew, and even if the elf’s companion had been mostly silent through their meeting, neither was he. Regardless of being of the gentle gender, her less than demure attitude and her uncanny ability to find work in less than perfect situations often left little to the imagination. Many would disregard thoughts of her possible employment as nothing short of silly - if not ludicrous - but the more time one spent with Vashti, the clearer it became. “As to what I was thinking,”The woman continued, “it mostly revolved around how much I hate orcs.” And goblins. And trolls. And, at the moment, that one particular elf more so.

Vashti stilled for a few seconds, brow knotted in contemplation. While Ginger's curiosity was well-placed, perhaps Vashti's own was even more so. Just what exactly was Ginger doing here?  What had happened to her constant companion and friend? And more importantly, what was she doing with this man? Vashti chewed on her lip for a couple of seconds, before her eyes turned sharply towards the woman. It was not a harsh expression, nor was it condemning, more so it expressed everything she was about to voice. “Nevertheless, I must ask you something similar, my elven friend, what is it that brought you here, to Drúadan? I would have thought you long gone from Gondor by now.” She added with a pointed expression, brows raised and curious blue orbs set on the woman.[/li][/list]
ooc; sorry if post is a bit on the short side, let me know if I need to add/change anything. Also, feel free to move Vash around or react to certain things if needed :3

Sahib Haşim

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« Reply #7 on: September 11, 2013, 05:01:00 AM »
Women were such a waste of time! They thought themselves strong when they were weak and no matter what race you came from someone was always saying how strong their women were in spirit, words and sometimes with the sword. This Sparrow had no doubt of. He was content with the strength of his own people, men, women and children, and often found himself getting a bit homesick… what was even worse was that it was a homesickness he could humor with the thought of going back. He was an outcast, hunted and wanted for a price. He wasn’t going to give his enemy what they wanted most, and that seemed to be his head. But, once he had escaped from his prison he had gone to Gondor and relearned the art of healing after being out of practice or what felt like forever! All the new herbs, spices were secretly exciting to learn about, especially the poisons. Sparrow’s love of poison was to a point that some might think that he- but usually they would be correct. Though, not all poison was terrible! There were poisons to counter act other poisons and actually helped to heal a body rather than to harm it, and that was just one of the beautiful things…

As he applied the paste he went through the list of herbs he had mashed together and what each of the properties would do, speaking so low in his own native tongue that even to himself it sounded like a hum. The side effects of the herbs wouldn’t be something to worry about, and if he could get a fire started he would have the woman drink a tea he found most effective for the pain the herbs would later cause. Not that he wanted to help her, but he had no choice. If he did have a choice he would have left her to die and gotten as far away from bloody mess that the Orcs had caused… if they hadn’t taken something that rightfully belonged to him and as stated before, if the stupid Elven woman hadn’t been stalking his camp! He held back a sigh and instead inhaled the sweet fumes of the paste he had created. Once the paste, and the woman, had stopped cringing from the pain he proceeded to carefully wrap the bandage he had brought around her waist while she made small talk with Ginger. “Try to hold as still as possible.” He muttered.

Upon replying, Vashti was quite for a long moment, and Ginger didn’t mind the wait to hear what the mercenary had to say for herself, “I could say that I just happened upon the ill-tempered group by pure and unadulterated luck, or lack of it,” Ginger gave a small ‘ha’ and smiled, “but we both know how that rings hollow.Very hallow indeed… Sparrow thought. He would have to make more of the paste for the woman in the future so the wound would heal properly, “As to what I was thinking,Yes, go on… please, as if the sound of your voice wasn’t annoying enough…It mostly revolved around how much I hate Orcs.” Sparrow glanced towards Ginger, who was smiling, but he noticed that her arm wrapped around her waist… in an almost protective manor, and he wondered whether this woman had seen it as well, “Nevertheless, I must ask you something similar, my Elven friend, what is it that brought you here, to Drúadan? I would have thought you long gone from Gondor by now.” The woman asked and Sparrow wondered if Ginger was going to answer honestly or make something up! At this point, he wouldn’t put anything past the Elven woman.

Sighing, Ginger thought for a short while about how to explain her curious appearance in the woods, in the fall after just having delivered the last of the apple harvest with the mercenary just a few weeks ago. It appeared to her that not only had she, Ginger, stayed in Gondor for the few short weeks, but so had Tohrien! The Elf’s thumb slid into her pant pocket as she replied in a drab tone that made her think of the color grey, “Well for one, it isn’t like I wanted to be here I assure you.” A small smile played at the corner of her lips as she continued, “My little friend decided to go into one of his tantrums and not bother to return after dark. I stumbled upon this man in search… and ended up staying longer than was my welcome…” Sparrow rolled his eyes as he tied a knot in the bandage. “And then the events were as followed.” Ginger said in an offhand tone. That would be the end of their small talk.

Moving towards the fire he poked it with a stick curiously to see if there were enough embers to get it going again before turning to his pack and pulling out a small, travel sized tea kettle and filling it with the last of his water. Next thing he needed the wounded woman to do was tell him exactly why she was here and why exactly this group of Orcs… surely there was nothing special about his crossbow! His crossbow, he needed that back thank you very much!! “So you decided to take on a group of Orcs by yourself,” He said as he worked to get the fire going, “How very interesting as a pack that size requires more than a single being to eliminate.” He wanted to push the subject and get to the source that was how he was. Nothing he wanted was beyond his reach, and that was why he was thief, or is depending on how much gold was in your purse. As the first sparks burst into a small flame, Sparrow coaxed it as far as he felt it would go before placing the kettle carefully upon the flame. Then he reached into his pack pulling out a wrapped royal purple cloth.

Inside was a beautiful, white teacup with lovely deep blue markings painted on the side that represented the written words of his native language. Sparrow said nothing further, and had no desire to so until he felt that he needed to. However, he couldn’t help the feeling that someone was watching him from the forest as he carefully prepared the herb tea for Tohrien.

o o c |
lol, your post wasn't too short! <3
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Vashti Ada Tohrein

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« Reply #8 on: September 15, 2013, 03:55:00 AM »
    There was a stillness in the forest that made the mercenary uneasy; it was a silence so prominent, so overwhelming, that Vashti had learned to recognize it without particular difficulty. It was a silence that drowned the bright chirps and faraway keens - unnatural - and one usually caused by an unwelcomed visitor or another. She knew this well too, Vashti herself having caused this sound - or lack of - in more than one occasion. She glanced briefly at both man and woman, before her attention was drug towards the silence again. Whether they heard the uneasy stillness that now surrounded them, the mercenary was unsure, their faces were not betrayed for whatever thought crossed their brow. In many ways, neither did the mercenary, who continued to sport the same wry smile she did before. However, her hands had begun to search for the blades she had discarded next to her vest and now held them neatly across her lap.
You are exaggerating, she told herself, making something of absolutely nothing at all. But, then again, she would much rather be prepared.

“Well for one, it isn’t like I wanted to be here I assure you...”

The elf carried on with the conversation without pause, her voice dismissive, but her body language spoke of volumes more. Vashti tilted her head slightly, brow knotted, and lips agape. “Uh huh.” She clicked her tongue absentmindedly, restraining herself from asking more than she should. Then again, whenever had that stopped her before? The motion, as small and insignificant as it had been, did not go unnoticed by Vashti. Her eyes lingered slightly on the elf’s arm, how it curled gently above her torso - protectively, the mercenary would go as far as assure.  She breathed in deeply before releasing it sharply. Vashti shrugged her shoulders, a good natured smile masking the curiosity that lilted in her eyes. “Well, I will be very interested to hear of this so-named venture later on;” she said with a chuckle, “void knows I like a good story to go with a pint.” Or, at the very least, it would be a nice way to let Ginger answer some clear, but unspoken, questions.

“So you decided to take on a group of Orcs by yourself,”  The suddenness of his voice nearly made Vashti jumped. In all his lack of noise, she had nearly forgotten that he was there. Vashti kicked herself mentally, brow tested by grimy fingers. “How very interesting as a pack that size requires more than a single being to eliminate.” She stopped her movements, lips tight and eyes narrow.

Vashti quirked her brow considering the man’s statement, before giving a gentle chuckle; well, that was one way of addressing her curious predicament. Others would have danced about the issue with particular ease, saying enough to drag the topic out, but being vague enough so that Vashti did not feel dismayed. Yet, this elf, this unnamed man, had a more direct approach. It was  genuinely amusing. After a few seconds, the mercenary shrugging her shoulders. “One would think, but they do not tend to be troublesome if the right pressure is applied.” She admitted at the man’s words, her eyes traveling from her all but ruined vest and towards the man instead.  He had a point - to a certain extent. While taking on a pack was tricky business, it was not an impossible feat. She had done it before, others before that, it was simply a matter of patience, preparation, and surprise. It was a well-kept secret amongst those that made their living from slaying dark creatures - and  a secret they were not fond of parting with. But with the right favors done, the right palms greased, and tight lips would loosen faster than any would expect. This for that. Quid pro cuo. Still, even with this knowledge the task was not easily accomplished. The dangers were many, palpable, and very much real.

“These ones, however, were a bit different, one might say.” A bit of an understatement, really - and the constant throbbing of her body proved to be a constant reminder. Vashti eased into her makeshift seat, shifting unconsciously before nestling her face against an open palm. While it would have been fairly easy to catch other Orc parties by surprise - whether they be those of a scouting group or something larger - these ones had been prepared. Call her paranoid if you will, but the moment that damn archer had been the first to deliver a blow - an arrow missing her by mere inches - she knew that she had bitten off  more than she could chew. While she was not one to admit it, she thanked her luck - had the elves not drawn the attention of part of the party away, she would be looking far worse than she already did. That is, if she did not consider the possibility of death. She chewed at the inside of her cheek at the thought. But now, she was prepared - she knew what to expect and would be able to adjust herself to the situation.

Movement caught Vashti’s attention, her eyes flickering in direction of the male as he made his way towards a pack.  He fumbled with it for a few seconds, a bored expression coloring her pale features as she watched. “What I find interesting,” she said with a devilish lilt, “is how apt you are at fighting Orcs for a mere medicine man.” She smiled then, a barely there knowing smile that quirked the corners of her lips.

“Much more interesting.”[/li][/list]
ooc; hehe glad to hear it wasn’t! i was honestly convinced it was = v =’’ though ooh, can’t wait to see what’s going on in the forest!

Sahib Haşim

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« Reply #9 on: November 21, 2013, 07:24:00 AM »
This woman’s obvious avoidance of Ginger’s questions was painfully obvious, but Ginger didn’t seem to mind, nor did she pursue answers to her questions – which was odd considering the reason she was gagged last night before bed for the very reason! This woman was an annoying box of questionable existence, it is a wonder no one has put her out of her misery just yet. Quite a mystery indeed… Sahib thought as he poked the fire to get it started again. What was the use of giving her cold tea? Besides, the herbs tasted better heated. Reaching for his mortar and pestle, he began to blend the tea leaves into a paste for Miss. Tohrien to apply to her wounds… he wasn’t one for parting gifts, but if there was one thing he hated it was unattended wounds. Listening to the women carry on their conversation, he became bored and started pondering how to respond to Miss. Tohrien’s ‘medicine man’ comment. It is true that if the right pressure is applied to a pile of Orcs, for how could they be a group, they are easily taken care of. But, from experience, these weren’t ordinary, unorganized Orcs. They were intelligent, and that was starting to turn into one of the scariest qualities of this group.  

I don’t think that they would be stupid enough to not be suspicious.” Sahib began, calmly, .“I was a bit of a surprise to them when I stumbled in.” That could have been the reason for the attack nearly half an hour ago. Once Orcs are aware of something they seemed to stay that way… it was a most annoying habit, really, but, he couldn’t blame them either. Sahib had been on his guard as well recently. So on his guard, in fact, that he still couldn’t shake the feeling that something was stalking them from the forest. Sahib placed the tea pot over the fire as it sparked to life and turned back to the leaves he was making into a paste.

Ginger’s eyes darted back and forth between watching Sahib work and talking with Tohrien. The conversation was getting nowhere, much to Ginger’s regret… however, if there were unspoken questions – like the many she had – they would, nor could not, be asked in front of her captor. Folding her arms around her waist and chuckled lightly. “Who doesn’t like a pint to go with a good story?” She answered, “Though I’m afraid that it wouldn’t be as interesting as yours…” Ginger didn’t believe that Tohrien happened to be in these woods, no one really was. With as many times as Ginger had been near Gondor she had spent most of her time hunting in these woods. During the spring and summer it was the perfect place to hunt and not too far from Rohan that it was terribly out of the way!

Sahib had just finished putting the ointment in a jar just as it seemed the conversation between the women had died down. Suddenly there was a loud, obnoxious noise erupting from the forest. Unable to determine the distance the noise had traveled, Sahib paused and the tea pot whistle began to blow. The dark skinned Elf was aware of movement beside him and watched Ginger out of the corner of his eyes as she removed the pot from the small fire. In the tenseness of the moment, Sahib glanced towards Tohrien. “Not all medicine men are the same, Miss. Tohrien.” He stated. The Half-Elf had lost his crossbow to a small patrol of the brutes, the prime reason he was staying in the forest. Sure he had his sword, but there was nothing more comforting than having his crossbow in his hands. Much like Ginger with her bow and knives…

If the noise was collective, Ginger couldn’t tell. Her fragile Elven ears and nerves had frozen solid until the tea pot started to whistle faintly. She moved from her position by the rock and carefully, using protective cloth, moved it away from the small fire. Sahib made his comment and poured the hot water into the tea cup, then held it out for Tohrien to take. “Drink,” He said, “It will help with your pain, and strength.” She watched as he reached for his sword, and without a word stepped quietly into the forest.

The forest had gone eerily silent. Something was moving within it, and yet not a sound was made. Whatever had cause the noise seemed to have taken its effect. Sahib’s sharp eyes scanned the trees for life. Not a squirrel to be seen or a magpie’s call was in the air. It was this kind of silence that Sahib had heard many times in his past. ‘The Calm Before the Storm’, it was a familiar feeling, almost like family. The anticipation of something terrible was a thrilling one… but only when Sahib was causing it! These Orcs had it in for them, and if it was indeed they that had caused the noise they would be there any second. But his eyes could see nothing except the vibrant colors of fall foliage. Moving further from his camp at a steady pace, he prepared himself for the worst…

o o c|
Hope everything is alright! If anything needs to be changed let me know. Vash has full control of the conversation now... tis up to her what she wants to reveal and what she wants to keep secret! XD *bats the ball into your court and purrs*
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Vashti Ada Tohrein

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« Reply #10 on: December 19, 2013, 04:51:00 AM »
    “Suspicion is something that comes naturally. Though Orcs are less keen to fully process the thought and are far more apt to act out of rage - or surprise in your case.” But whatever the reason was for their reaction, it was rare for Orcs to act with reasoning of their own. They were creatures that followed orders, not who made plots in the dark. And yet, everything that she had thought to know about Orcs and the way they went about life - how they worked together and thought, was shattered the moment that arrow pierced her.

    Shifting shook the mercenary’s thoughts, the looming of a figure catching her eyes, “Drink.” Vashti looked incredulously at the cup - and subsequently at the man holding it. “It will help with your pain, and strength.”[/i] Her chest hurt at the effort of holding unto a snort. Before she was able to form a coherent retort, the cup was secured in her hands. “I...” She trailed before releasing a sigh. “...thank you.” The woman added slowly, eyeing the tea of questionable scent - far more bitter than any she had smelt before. Vashti turned the cup absently in her hands, attempting to convince herself to drink the unknown substance - which, at any rate, was developing rather shoddily. Just one swing, she told herself as her lips puckered around the glass, ...bottom’s up. The taste, Vashti expressed with sharp cough, was no better than the smell - in fact she would describe it as worse. Tastes like death - or cloves, which is the same thing really... she mused with a lopsided grimace glancing down at the remaining liquid. She swirled the green-tinged water around, specks of loose leafs spiraling about. The mercenary crinkled her nose, a childish display that seemed rather unbefitting of the female Dunedain.

    As she drained the remaining liquid - albeit disdainfully - Vashti turned to the medicine man, brow crinkled and question in tongue. Smart choice, She found herself thinking, drink something without knowing what it was - brilliant really. But as she turned the mercenary was met not by the man, but by an empty space. The woman turned slightly, eyes falling momentarily on Ginger, before finding her intended target making his way into the forest. For a second, Vashti thought of calling back at him, but quickly decided against it; there were too many questions that had gone unasked while the women suffered under his unwavering eyes. Questions, the mercenary decided, that needed to be asked, Such as, I don’t know, what on earth possessed you to be found with the likes of him?! Though, perhaps a more tactful wording would work best under the circumstances.

    Azure orbs found the female elf again, though they had lost the harshness of before. Vashti  fumbled with the glass cup in hand, shifting about her makeshift seat to find a suitable position to place it in. After a few seconds of searching - and failing - to find anything that would keep the frail object from harm’s way, Vashti simply decided to leave it in the ground. The mercenary shifted, easing forward to bury her elbows into her knees. There was a small clink and Vashti glanced down to see the cup rolling on its side. “If I may be so bold to ask,” Vashti added softly, eyes lingering on the rolling figure, “...just what the hell do you think you are doing?” Well, there went tactfulness. She frowned slightly, blue flickering from the ground below her to the woman again.

    “I mean, no offense, but you are not exactly known for having a decent taste on traveling companions, Ginger.”  Vashti continued absentmindedly, herself included. Besides, the growing concern for the annoying owl kept pressing at the back of her head, especially when the elf rarely found herself out of the beast’s company.  Vashti shifted unconsciously, for the first time in a long time unsure as to how to continue. Or, for that matter, why she should continue the thought anyways. As far as she knew, Ginger was a grown woman-elf-person and was quite capable of making her own decisions, no matter how reckless they seemed at the time. At this, Vashti visually grimaced, shaking her head slowly, Really? And what exactly makes you any less reckless? It was as Vashti’s lips opened ready to make as much of a sensible argument as she could muster, that she heard it.

    It was faint - a mere keen drowned by the eager whistling of the birds, but loud enough that it chilled Vashti to the bone.

    It was a sound that the mercenary was used to - perhaps far more than she would like to admit - and one which made up the majority of her jobs. It was also a sound that until a few minutes ago Vashti thought she would find solace from, one which she wouldn’t have to worry about until she at least got a good night’s rest. Yet, the faint screech of Orcs, their cries riddled with the dark languages of tainted lands, made the woman’s body stiffen. They were close, close enough that the mercenary felt her heart still and her breathing falter. Too close, too soon, Vashti thought urgently as she made to move, but her body tired and weak from the beating she had recently received, heaved. White pain shot through her veins, blinding the mercenary the moment she strained to stand.

    Move. They needed to move, to have the closing party lose their scent so that they may, for lack of a better word, prepare.

    Vashti bit a curse as she rose to her feet, blades in hands as she struggled to secure them. And the medicine man? He will be fine. He is far more skilled than he admits. The better part of her reminded - his hands were not clean, not spared from bloodshed or violence no matter how tried to deny it. The very way how he stood, the way he carried himself with cold indifference, made it clear.

    Then there was nothing.

    The blood rushed through the mercenary’s body with renewed vigor, the muscles that once refused to move, now twitching expectantly. It was the rustling of the bushes behind her that first prompted the mercenary to act - for her to take her blades and in a single motion swing. Ahura connected immediately, the Haradrim blade biting at an orc’s chest. His squeal prompted the mercenary’s second blade to follow, to be twisted up and silence the beast.

    “Go,” she managed breathlessly, her tongue faster than her mind. It was as the body fell listlessly to the ground that the mercenary rounded at Ginger, “Go!”[/li][/list]

    Sahib Haşim

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    • Alias: Hades
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    Against Better Judgement
    « Reply #11 on: April 18, 2015, 07:51:00 PM »
    o o c | If you have any questions, or need to GM to move the thread forward you have my permission to use Sparrow as much as logically needed. xD

         Miss. Tohrein had been right, of course. These Orcs were intelligent, and it was annoying. Sparrow stood in the middle of one of the many clearings and listened intently for any sound that could give the creatures away. The slightest sound of a leaf shifting, a twig snapping or even labored breathing. One thing was for sure, though, their tactic of splitting them up, if that was indeed their intention, was working. With his sword out in front of him, and the sunlight through the autumn canopy gently rotating through the trees, he watched the moving shadows just waiting for something or someone to make a slip.

         “If I may be so bold to ask,” Tohrein said after a long moment of silence. Ginger had been rather quiet, which was not normal for her under any circumstances, this particular afternoon; so when Vashti spoke up it startled the she-Elf. “… Just what the hell do you think you are doing?” Well, wasn’t that a good question, and one that Ginger wished she had more time to answer, but Vashti didn’t seem to want to wait for a response before criticizing her taste in companions, “I mean, no offense, but you are not exactly known for having a decent taste on traveling companions.” Ginger smiled. No, no she wasn’t. Anyone who has ever met Dénor knew generally came up with this sort of response. The owl gave her a bad reputation, which was why she had so little friends and rarely traveled with anyone who wasn’t – well – Dénor. In fact, the only reason she was with the dark skinned half-elf was because he had caught her about the same time the Orcs had taken his weapon. And the only reason she was in this part of the wood was because the color. She liked this time of year, the colors were always what drew her to this forest. But, she was about to respond when something sounded in the woods above the normal sounds of the birds, yet at the same time she wasn’t quite sure what it was so she stayed silent. The second time it was louder and more definite that Tohrein heard it that time, too. Orcs.

         Both the women stiffened and Tohrein was the first to move. She rose, albeit painfully Ginger was sure, from her position on the ground, blades raised. Instinctively Ginger took up her bow, at the same time the bushes behind Tohrein rustled and from them an Orc leapt. Ginger watched as the woman’s blades flashed once to stick the creature, and then again to silence it. “Go!” The body fell to the floor, and Ginger could hear more coming through the woods, “Go!Go where!? She wanted to ask, but she didn’t. She stayed where she was, she didn’t know why. The questions that did run through her mind, though, were all alike no matter how she thought of them. How long does she think she’ll be able to hold out like this? She’s seriously injured, she won’t make it. Splitting up is always a bad idea. There is no good way this can end. The last time she had ended up in a similar situation was earlier in the year. Horrible memories forced their way to the front of dark caves, whips and the friend she had saved. The scars would never leave, the marks would always be there.

         Raising her bow, the next Orc that barreled its way into the clearing didn’t stand a chance when she loosed the arrow. The Orc sprawled across the forest floor next to his buddy in combat, an arrow sticking from his forehead, an ugly snarl left on his face. Ginger stood, another arrow notched and drawn. “While I am sure you mean well,” she finally answered, “I can just leave you here.Well you could. But what good would that do? She was every bit as stubborn as Tohrein, even though her kind and gentle self would never admit to that. She had lost Dénor, she had been captured by the Medicine Man – who had vanished – and there was nothing else for her to do. In normal circumstances she would have gladly run into the woods blind, with no apparent plan of attack. This wasn’t like anything she hadn’t encountered before. Their scent would be too fresh, and the Orcs would just follow behind. If running would attempt to ‘thin the crowd’ … … …

         They came like a storm, and he was prepared. The screeches were sudden, and the Orcs – although obviously organized – flung themselves in his direction. All of his training was put to practice in these sorts of moments. Orcs went down one by one, either with their nerves severed or heads detached. Sahib didn’t shirk his strength in a fight, it would have been dishonorable to do so, and dishonor was not in his vocabulary. He advanced through the woods, tackling any and all enemies that came his way. The last thing he wanted, though, was to come face to face with a Warg…

         Ginger ran, but before she did, she made sure that the Orcs had a good view of her doing so. She leapt nimbly through woods, zigzagging through the trees and listening intently for the ugly arrows that either thunked into the trunk of the tree she was just standing by, or wiz by too close for comfort. Her knives had been confiscated by the Medicine Man, and the only form of protection she had was the quiver of arrows her captor had given her from earlier and her bow. I hope I did the right thing. She thought.   

         When the fighting subsided, and everything was still, Sahib looked around at the bloody carnage before him. He hadn’t seen that much blood – though it was black – since he had reached Gondor. The people of Gondor were particularly peaceful, and the closest they ever came to domestic violence was a bar fight. Sparrow gripped his sword and headed back to the camp where the sounds of ‘war’ were growing stronger. If he arrived on time he would be able to help anyone who was still there, if there was anyone there at all.
    « Last Edit: June 07, 2016, 06:03:26 PM by Sahib Haşim »
    speech color code: 5D1785


    played by Hades

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