Hunting for Godot

Pull out your pack and head on down to the Prancing Pony for some great Role Playing (try to stay in character)!

Postby asaris » Mon Jun 16, 2003 9:00 am

A young man stood alone in the darkness, on a cold and rainy night. Lightning crashed around him as took a bunch of <i>Seregon</i> from his stachel and laid it on the grave of his parents. They were already fifteen years dead, and at 19 Benoit did not remember much of that evening. Fangs, claws, and then Rivendell. Since then, he had one goal -- to kill the werewolf and avenge his parents. He left Rivendell when he was 14 to try and find out what he could, but for many years his serch was fruitless. Those who did not laugh at him for his story of a werewolf (myths! they would say. As real as those stories of walking trees...) had nothing to add. To all appearances, werewolves had died out many, many years ago, perhaps all disappearing with the death of their master at the end of the Second Age.<BR><BR>It was not entirely fruitless, his many years of wandering. He learned the trade of a bard from a man named Jacks, and knew all the cities of Eriador. He was quick with a blade, and had a tongue made of silver. And finally, one evening in Bree, he met a man who did not laugh at his stories of werewolves, but nodded grimly, and told Benoit of a werewolf that had been sighted recently by rangers in the area near Tharbad.<BR><BR>"I will avenge you, my parents." Having renewed his oath, Benoit left the gravesite, and left to return to Bree. The blade he had now would not suffice to slay a werewolf, one of the old spirits of the world, and Bree was the nearest city where it would be conceivable to buy that sort of weapon. And so it was that, in a few days, the bard found himself sitting in the Prancing Pony, sipping on an ale, his new blade hanging at his side.<BR>
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Postby asaris » Thu Jun 19, 2003 6:22 am

The bar was quite full that evening, since a renowned bard had come from Gondor, and there were few empty spots in the Pony. Benoit's table itself had two of the few remaining spots, in addition to a somewhat disheveled man sitting just to his left. Benoit considered making small talk with the man, but he seemed quite involved in listening to the bard. For his part, Benoit thought that the bard was quite good, but he was not really in a mood to be listening to songs of ribaldry tonight. The excitement of his upcoming journey was building in him, his young face glowing with anticipation. His hand glided idly over his sword, assuring him that this was not a dream, that his longed for revenge was coming soon.
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Postby Ráca » Mon Jun 23, 2003 12:39 pm

<i>A group of people were at the same end of the room, three tables adjacent - and were playing an involved game of cards. Most customers had seen them playing three hours eirlier, and still the game persisted - and from the amount of copper and silver coins on the table, there was much to play for. <BR><BR>The first competitor, a stout, balding man with a six-o-clock shadow and a bad temper began, laying his cards down in triumph, already assuming the pot to be his. Two of the five lay down their hands in disgust, but two remained optimistic. One was the off-duty barmaid, her ample chest heaving with excitement as she surveyed his hand, then hers - she seemed to be quite the centre of attention. The last person, sat in the very corner against the wall, had their face hidden by a cloak. None could see her face, though her voice had betrayed her gender. <BR><BR>As the barmaid laid down her cards, the man swore coarsely as the waitress beamed at him, the prospect of the pot being in her possession linging up in her thoughts. Still, the cloaked stranger kep her cards - and consequently the smile of the barmaid faded. Leaning forwards, the stranger displayed her cards on the table - three aces and a six. <BR><BR>The entire table whistled their appreciation - aside from the barmaid, who was livid with anger, and the stranger rose to collect her winnings, scooping them into a leather pouch at her belt. <BR><BR>Quitting the game, she headed to the bar, where the proceeded to pay for a drink before taking one of the only other available spaces, in a corner reserved for the most anti-social folk around.<BR><BR>Taking the space happily, she rested her boots upon the corresponding table and took a long mouthful of her Ale, pleased with her winnings - it was then that the flash of light gleaming on metal caught her eye.<BR><BR>Tilting her head to one side, the stranger looked through her hood to the young man now seated on the other side of the room, stroking his sword lovingly. Not that it was any old hand-me-down sword, either... it was a demon-killer, the best money could buy. Whether he knew that or not was something else, but the stranger knew how to recognise such a sword.<BR><BR>Every single blade in her possession was made from the same material.
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Postby Meluivain » Mon Jun 23, 2003 3:52 pm

(I’m assuming Gwen is the off duty barmaid…)<BR><BR>Gwen was displeased at her loss in the card game. She was sure that she had won the hand. Her anger would have to wait, she was due back on shift in several minutes. She headed to her room near the kitchen. She pulled a dress from a drawer and changed quickly, she was probably running late by now. <BR><BR>Trying hard to balance a tray full of foaming ale Gwen scrambled around the room placing them on various tables. When there was only one left she was having a hard time remembering who ordered it. Then she spotted a woman in the corner, the same who had beat her in the previous game. She made her way behind the bar and walked over to the woman.<BR><BR>“That was a good game you played over there,”Gwen said revering the woman’s skills. Usually, when she was determined, she could beat most anybody willing to play her. Gwen placed the ale in front of the woman, who picked it up without a word. She seemed to be admiring a man on the other side of the room, she could see why. The man was young and very handsome looking from what Gwen could see. She waited a moment for the woman’s reply. Annoyed that there was none, she began to walk away. <BR><BR>“Excuse me…What??”<BR>Gwen turned. It seemed that the woman had snapped back to life. <BR><BR>“I said…that you played a good game. You’re better than most I’ve seen. In fact I don’t think I’ve ever been beat before.” Gwen said with a smile.
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Postby asaris » Thu Jun 26, 2003 4:05 am

Benoit thought carefully about what his next move should be. At 19, he was still quite young for someone of his race, and his impetuosity encouraged him to ride out alone, and slay the werewolf single-handedly. But, despite his youth, he also possessed the wisdom the would later distinguish him as one of the finest generals of King Eldarion, and he knew he would need help. He looked around the room, scouting to see if there was anyone who might be of aid in his endeavour. <i>Not many here who could really help. Hicks and sots. He...I don't know. But her...</i> <BR><BR>There was a woman in the corner he caught looking at him. Not as a potential notch on her belt, which was something he was also familiar with, but rather pointedly looking at his sword. He started to hail the waitress, but noted her heavy tray, and thought to wait before buying the strange woman a drink. But out of the corner of his eye, he noted the barmaid Gwen speaking with the woman.
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Postby Liadan » Thu Jun 26, 2003 8:59 am

Silivren was riding hard across the Greenway against the rain that now pounded on her face. She knew she could not ride far tonight so she was making for the Prancing Pony in Bree. Old Bombadil had warned her there would be a mighty storm yet she had to leave his home to return to the other Rangers, and she had went around the Barrow Downs; a slight shiver ran up her spine as she thought of that place. <BR><BR>Her thoughts began to linger as she rode farther. Her mind kept returning to who, or what, had lead her into the Old Forest. She had been hunting with a few Dunedain between Midgewater and Amon Sul when they had met a few of Celeborn’s people coming from Mithlond. The Elves had told them that something lurked near Arthedain, or the Shire. They said they did not know whether it was an Orc or some other foul creature of the Dark One yet they insisted it must, at all costs be slain. Silivren volunteered to go as did another Ranger, Cuina. They both rode out and reached the Old Forest within two days time. When they had settled to rest for a few hours they were greeted by, Firith, Silivren’s brother who was set on watch for the Shire. <BR>“Greetings Silivren, sister, Cuina...” he said.<BR>“Why have to come to us, brother, should you not be at your post?” Silivren asked. <BR>“Ai, I should, but we need another person to hunt with us near the White Downs, past the Shire. We had heard that you two were coming West to hunt a foe however, we crossed it already and cornered it into the Old Forest, it was wounded. All that needs to be done is to see if it is dead, if not then it needs to be killed. It should only take one of you and the other may come with me,” he finished. <BR>“Okay, Cuina, you go with my brother, and I will make the journey into the Old Forest.” Silivren stated. <BR>“Alright then.” Cuina said. Firith was hesitate for she was still only 20, yet he said nothing and agreed. Within fifteen minutes Silivren was riding into the Old Forest...<BR><BR>Her thoughts were interrupted when Minuial, her grey horse began to slow down and the Gate of Bree was in sight. When they reached the Gate Silivren knocked hard on the wooden door and a horse voice yelled a muffled ‘hold on’ and opened a small window like door that stood just below Silivrens chin. She bent her knees to see his face. The man had a grey beard and from what she could see gnarled hair. His eyes were dark and beady, she thought for she could not see every detail, yet begin a Ranger her eyesight was keen. “ I am here for a room at the Pony.” she said darkly. The man opened the door and let her in, Minuial followed her with out Silivren needing to hold his reign. Silivren turned to him as they reached the Pony, with a light kiss on his mane he went towards the stables. Completely soaked she went in, music and voice rumbled about from wall to wall. It was warm yet instinct told her to keep her hood up. She asked the manager to see to Minuial and ordered a pint of ale but she didn’t ask for a room just yet. If the weather cleared she wanted to leave for Imladris as soon as possible. The tables were packed as Bard was singing, Silivren went to sit at the farthest stool at the bar. It was dimmer here as other quieter folks who less appealed by the bard enjoyed their ale.
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Postby Ráca » Thu Jun 26, 2003 9:02 am

<i>The woman offered Gwen a smile from underneath her hood, wondering if the barmaid could see it. It was true - Gwen had been a phenomenal player, and if they had joined up... woe betide any who would dare to play them. <BR><BR>That thought brought another smile to her lips, and she looked back up at the barmaid.</i><BR><BR>"Thank you, both for the compliment and the beer."<i> She said softly, handing the woman appropriate payment for the beverage, plus a bit more. </i> "You're an amazing player yourself. How about some time we team up, and really scare the life out of them?" <i>She suggested - the barmaid made some sort of reply, but the woman in the cloak barely heard her. <BR><BR>Instead, she was looking back at the young man with the finely-wrought weapons, watching him as he looked straight back at her, their eyes locking - though she wasn't sure if he could see hers underneath her hood. <BR><BR>Her interest well and truly piqued, she rose from her seat, thanking Gwen for the beer. Walking to the bar and purchasing another, she carried it over the the table at which the young man was sitting.<BR><BR>Keeping her hood up - it wouldn't do for her face to be seen here, and she was well known by both the bartenders and the freqwuent customers as preferring to be anonymous - she ventured over, and placed the tankard before him. Softening her voice in order to make it seem less cold and threatening than normal, she spoke hesitantly to him.</i><BR><BR>"Greetings, sir. I couldn't help but notice that sword of yours... it's quality is amazing, to say the least. I was wondering if I may talk with you of its origin - and besides, it won't do for a young man to be alone on such a night. Inward thoughts can be more harmful than you know."<BR><BR><i>She inwardly held her breath, hoping his reply would be of the kind that she hoped - condascending and friendly. Although she wasn't truly known as one for socialising, Ráca Arthelion was very, very keen to find out if the young man before her knew of the powers of his sword.</i><BR><BR>
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Postby Alaklainiel » Fri Jun 27, 2003 8:41 am

Maniel was weary from her nights of travelling. She had just come from the shire because her friend was in need of her service. The patient was fine now, it had only been a mere case of food poisoning because those hobbits will eat anything!<BR><BR> Maniel walked through the streets of Bree, not somewhere where she had been often. This place was still very new to her. As she walked she kept an eye out for an Inn though she wasn’t sure if she trusted a place like this enough to actually be able to sleep at night. A creeky sign hung above the door of an Inn, the Prancing Pony.<BR><BR> “Well that sure sounds interesting enough,” Maniel said to herself and she walked into the Inn.<BR> She would’ve taken off her cloak, though she had no cloak to take off. Her feet were bare as well, and she was freezing. All she wore was a thin red cotton shirt and matching pants. Around her waist was a belt where most of her herbs and remedies hung.<BR>The stench of sweaty men and bubbling ale made her feel as though she was going to vomit. There was no room to sit left so Maniel thought she might as well leave. <BR>Just as she was walking out a man left his seat. Maniel walked over to the table where the man had left. Sitting at the table was a young man and a cloaked figure which she could not tell if it was a man or a woman.<BR> <BR>Maniel sat down where the other man had left, right beside the young man. She heard the voice of the cloaked figure speaking to the man. It was a female. Maniel wondered why she did not uncloak herself, though she thought it was really no business of hers.<BR> <BR>Maniel noticed a young barmaid walk by and she stopped her.<BR><BR>“May I have a glass of wine please?” Maniel asked, a heavy accent in her voice.<BR>The barmaid didn’t seem to understand her.<BR>“A glass of wine please.” She said again trying to speak without her accent.<BR>The barmaid still didn’t understand what she was saying.<BR>“Wine!” Maniel said in a louder voice.<BR>Now she had some people staring at her. “Oh forget it,” she thought and then waved the barmaid away. <BR><BR>Maniel sat with her head down tapping one foot with the song that the bard was singing. She was frustrated now. She was cold, and thirsty, and no one could understand her. “Great…” she whispered under her breath, “ just great.”
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Postby asaris » Fri Jun 27, 2003 9:06 am

"The company of a woman like you would be most welcome," Benoit replied to the strange woman, a light smile highlighting his words. Her face was hidden beneath her cloak, but even so, Benoit could tell by her bearing that there was a hardness about her even as she tried somewhat to hide it by softening her voice. Despite the strangeness of seeing someone in a full cloak in a warm and crowded bar, he felt that, whatever she may be, she did not mean him ill. "Take a seat, and perhaps we can talk." Raca sat down between Benoit and a young woman in a red shirt who seemed upset about something. Turning to the waitress as she walked by, Benoit asked her for two ales. "You asked about the sword," Benoit continued, voice slightly lowered. "It's called <i>Helcar</i>, the shopkeeper told me...was forged in Eregion. I hope it's enough to kill a werewolf."
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Postby Ráca » Fri Jun 27, 2003 11:40 am

<i>An eyebrow rose instantly at the talk of slaying a werewolf, and Ráca took a deep mouthful of her Ale, turning over all the possible responses she could make in her mind. The young man before her evidently knew that such news was not always appreciated in a town like Bree - the fact that he kept his tone sufficiently lowered was enough to indicate that.<BR><BR>She surveyed his face from underneath her hood, scanning his features for any sign of entrapment, or anything else suspect... she found nothing. In a way, she was relieved - she would have found it hard to believe that a young man his age - only just out of boyhood, it seemed - could harbour ill thoughts to anyone bar those who deserved.<BR><BR>She nodded to his words, watching his thoughtfully as she read the eagerness on his features. Sighing, she set her tankard on the table with a 'clunk', and murmured words to him in a low voice.</i><BR><BR>"The truth is, sir, that I already knew where it was forged... I know because every single blade in my possession is made from the same material. The reason I asked was because I wished to know if you knew what your blade was... and evidently you do."<BR><BR><i>She paused for a moment, eyes warily scanning the crowd - they settled briefly upon the woman cloaked in Red, before returning to the young man.</i> "If you would care to meet me in a place more to my choosing than this, we can discuss further whether I can be of service to you - because you can rest assured you will not be ableto kill that monster if you go on your own."
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Postby Alaklainiel » Fri Jun 27, 2003 4:24 pm

Maniel sighed and let her brain wander to anything that would amuse her. The cloaked figure she had seen earlier talking to the young man had now sat down in between Maniel and the young man. She didn’t mean to eavesdrop but one word in their conversation striked her interest. Werewolf.<BR><BR>Maniel didn’t know what to say. She had never heard of someone actually believing in a werewolf before. To her they were just figments of the imagination, mere creatures used in scary stories. She had heard many the story about a werewolf, so this intrigued her. Maniel wanted to speak though she thought she should wait until a pause in their conversation. She heard them talk on more about weapons and swords, not really any interest to her considering she could not fight, at least not well. <BR><BR>Soon Maniel heard a pause in their conversation. She decided to jump at the chance to find out more about this werewolf.<BR><BR>“Excuse me,” she said as politely as she could to the young man and woman, though she forgot to speak clearly and her voice came out coated with a thick accent, “ I didn’t mean to over hear but I couldn’t help myself… You said something about a werewolf? Oh I’m sorry, I forgot to introduce myself, I’m Maniel a healer from Edoras.”<BR><BR>Maniel held out her hand to them and waited to see if they could understand what she said.
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Postby Lain_X » Fri Jun 27, 2003 5:13 pm

The front doors of the Inn burst open. For a moment, all conversation stopped and all heads turned to the two frantic looking men standing in the doorway. <BR><BR>"He's in bad shape!" one shouted hoarsely. "We need bandages and some water! Hurry!"<BR><BR>It was then that all eyes turned to the limp figure supported between the two men. Blood and dirt were smeared generously about his skin and clothes. Or rather the tattered remains of his clothes. His left ribs and chest had been gruesomely slashed, almost exposing bone. Hideous purple and black bruises stood out in the harsh light of the Prancing Pony.<BR><BR>"The graveyard's <i>that</i> way," remarked a crooked looking patron. A few laughs were followed, some nervous, some rather enthusiastic.<BR><BR>"Young men these days..." another muttered. <BR><BR>A large, unusually pale fellow with spoke up, "All the bandages in the world won't save that one. Looks like he was fighting a bear... and lost!"<BR><BR>Chuckling to himself, the big man downed an ale and ignored the shocked looks coming from the rest of the patrons. One of his compatriots, a skinny looking man with one eye larger than the other clucked his tongue at those who were helping the injured stranger.<BR><BR>"It's a lost cause," he sneered. "That one's been bleedin' for days. Look how it's all dried up. He should be dead twice over. Prob'bly a bear got the jump on that fool. Or a pack of wol-"<BR><BR>"<i>So what?</i>"<BR><BR>Any laughing immediately died at what the patrons saw next. It was the injured stranger, now standing. It was a rather grim site, what with the gore and grime. Yet, he stood, and to the surprise of all nearby, including the two who had helped him here, he stood without wavering an inch. <BR>Lean and tall, he had the build of a runner. But the callouses on his palms spoke of near torturous training with weapons. Two toned hair, light brown and dark brown, hung damply across his forehead. Unusual gray-blue eyes, like liquid silver, locked onto the sneering fellow's own mismatched eyes. When narrowed, the sheer intensity of the stranger's look nearly caused the fellow to stumble back. <BR><BR>"Could have died... Would have died. <i>Should</i> have died. So what?"<BR><BR>His voice was not quite as rocksteady, a harsh rasp evident every now and then. And yet, it held all the confidence in the world. It was difficult to tell underneath the blood, but it appeared the man was smiling. A snake eater's grin that looked half-delirious. The sneering fellow sat down and tried to escape the stranger's penetrating gaze. <BR><BR>"I'm still alive," he whispered. "And I'll make that beast regret it..."<BR><BR>The last of his strength finally ebbed out and he slumped over.
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Postby Liadan » Fri Jun 27, 2003 6:13 pm

The bar shook with voices as the two men staggered inward, voices were raised in mockery of their hope. Silivren just watched as the man slumped onto the floor, though he had put up quite a fight. As she took the whole scence in she put down her ale splashing the beverage all over the bar top. A pale of water was being brought to the two men as Silivren rushed over and knelt down at the man who had fainted, his head covered with sweat. She looked at his wounds, he had lost quite a sufficent amount of blood, and she was surprised to see him still breathing. She looked at the man who knelt next to him as he looked down at his companion in shock. <BR>"Is this your friend?" she asked him. He made no response he merely looked at her then looked back at the body laying on the floor. She shook his shoulder, "Listen, we need to get him to a bed..." <BR>Silivren looked around to the bar manager, she turned to him, "I need a room... Now!" she stated. <BR>"Follow me," he nodded. Silivren placed her arms underneath the man's armpits ready to lift him, his friend looked at her, "Grab the other end," she snapped. It took him a few seconds to digest her words but soon enough he picked up his feet. The mans weight was a bit more than she expected, she bent her knees a bit and hoisted him up to get a better grip. The walk to the room was very uncomfortable, Silivren kept having to adjust her grip and she stood 5'11 so she was a bit shorter than the other man but they made in a decent amount of time.<BR><BR>"Can you bring some hot water and towels, please?" She asked the plumpy manager, as they placed the man as gently as they could on the twin bed, he nodded once more at her. She grabbed his elbow, "And quickly Sir... please!" she said turning back to the man on the bed. She took off her cloak and the damp long brown hair that fell around her face and back she quickly tied in a lazy pony tail. She unclasped the small brown leather pouch from her waist and took out what Athelas she had left. She frowned as she looked down upon them, they were a bit smushed by her pouch though they were still usable, but there was no way she could save this man with just Athelas... she was still young for a Dunedain and not completely trained in a healers way. She looked at the man who was standing near the bed now holding a cloth over his companion's wounds. <BR>"I only have a few Athelas," she said as the bar manager came in and left the pot of hot water and rags on the bed side table. "I will do as much as I can, but I am afraid that may not be enough." <BR><BR>Silivren walked over to the pot and placed the flower in it after a few second a sweet, almost delicious smell that calmed every muscle and vein in her body was let off, indeed these flowers were still good. Rolling up her sleeves she began to open the mans shirt so she could tend to his wounds. His left side had a huge gash across it almost exposing his ribs, she wasn't sure if it was a bite or a scratch yet she knew it was no bear nor Orc that had accomplished such a wound. She touched it gently, the man winced though she was unsure if he woke. As she lifted the rest of his shirt she saw his chest, there was blood everywhere and she could not make out the wound entirely. Grabbing the rag she dipped it in the water with the Athelas and began to clean the blood from the wounds. She could see now that they were deep, a bit deeper that she had expected. The more she saw the more awe began to sweep over her as she realized this man should be dead, and he was lucky not to be. She cleaned the blood off the mans face as well as the dirt and grime. She placed two clean rags over his wounds and let her hand linger on them as she tried to sense his strength. Though she was not fully trained and experienced she tried to give some of her strength to his body to heal his wounds, as she had seen others of her kin do before. Silivren closed her eyes and focused on the wounds and her own inner strength she felt being drained from her. Her eyes flew open, she quickly took her hand off the man and she looked around the room. Her eyesight flinched a bit and she felt she had little energy and her own breaths were forced though she could hear the man on the bed now breathing more deeply.<BR><BR>He still showed no sign of conciousness, and she knew she could do no more. She saw the other man leave the room. Then she sat down at the wooden chair facing the window of the room and waited. The moon was shining down on the pane as it lit up her pale green eyes, she wanted to leave the room, though pity, a feeling she knew little, made her stay... she almost had no hope for this man.
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Postby Meluivain » Fri Jun 27, 2003 7:58 pm

<img src="http://www.tolkienonline.com/mb/i/expressions/face-icon-small-blush.gif"border=0><img src="http://www.tolkienonline.com/mb/i/expressions/face-icon-small-blush.gif"border=0><img src="http://www.tolkienonline.com/mb/i/expressions/face-icon-small-blush.gif"border=0><img src="http://www.tolkienonline.com/mb/i/expressions/face-icon-small-blush.gif"border=0>
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Postby Lady_Galadriel786 » Sat Jun 28, 2003 6:15 am

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Postby Lain_X » Sat Jun 28, 2003 3:17 pm

Of the two men who had carried the injured stranger to the Prancing Pony, only one remained at the Inn. The other had left hurriedly, citing a business appointment. The man who remained would be leaving soon as well.<BR><BR>"You don't have much hope for him, do you?" asked a waitress. "I can't say I blame you, but it was decent of you to help him here. He can die with a little comfort at least."<BR><BR>The man didn't reply immediately. Instead he took a sip of his beer and looked out the window. <BR><BR>"Do you know where I found him?" he asked suddenly. <BR><BR>The waitress shook her head. <BR><BR>"Five miles from Bree hill," he answered. "He was crawling on the grass, a trail of blood stretching all the way back as the eye could see. Crawling, even though it was clear he had been injured days ago."<BR><BR>The woman raised a brow in disbelief and remarked, "He's stronger than he looks."<BR><BR>But the fellow shook his head. "Maybe. But I've seen stronger men die from less. What that man had was a <i>will</i>, you understand? A will to live so strong... I can scarcely imagine it."<BR><BR>He picked up his hat and cloak and paid his bill. Before he left, he turned to the waitress and said, "I think that one will live. I'm sure of it." <BR><BR>And he walked away.
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Postby asaris » Mon Jun 30, 2003 2:49 am

Benoit mentioned for Maniel to take the last empty seat at the table while he continued to speak with Raca. "I'd not be against that. But first, I'd like yer name...I'm Benoit."
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Postby Lain_X » Mon Jun 30, 2003 5:31 pm

<i>Intense concentration was evident on his young face. His breathing was controlled, flowing steadily like a river. Closing his eyes in preparation for the last stage, he slowly raised his blade. <BR><BR>"HYAH!"<BR><BR>With a forceful shout, the blade came down, hard. The steel flashed through the air and cut slightly into a block of wood.<BR><BR>"Whew!" he exclaimed, wiping his brow. "Well, let's call it a day gramps."<BR><BR>As the sun rose over the hills, a lean, tall figure clothed in gray robes, stood next to the youth, yelling, "YOU IDIOT! IT'S BARELY DAWN!"<BR><BR>The first rays of day finally shone down, revealing a yard filled with literally hundreds of wooden blocks. A balding, gray haired elderly man with a short, willowy beard stood exasperated near a stump.<BR><BR>"You've been training for two years and THIS is all you're capable of!? YOU COULDN'T EVEN CUT INTO ONE PIECE OF WOOD!?"<BR><BR>"Aw, give me a break gramps," replied a very bored looking boy with a mop of two toned brown hair. He wore a simple black shirt and matching pants. "I'm only ten years old, what do you expect?"<BR><BR>The old man sat down on the stump, cradling his face in his hand. "Much more than this from the latest descendant of Lairen bounty hunters. AND DON'T CALL ME GRAMPS! I am your MASTER now!"<BR><BR>The boy sighed and stared at his grandfather with a forlorn expression.<BR><BR>"And stop looking at me like that, Ran." said Fenarion Lairin to his grandson. "You're your mother's child and both of you frankly make me nervous with those eyes of yours. It's just unnatural to have such color..."<BR><BR>Indeed, the almost silver eyes with traces of a soft blue, looked very strange in the light of the dawn. He was every bit his mother's child, even to the slightly feminine appearance of his face. The tousled brown hair on his head was the only legacy he seemed to receive from his father's side of the family.<BR><BR>"Don't tell me we got to keep training, gr- uh, master."<BR><BR>"I don't see what the point is, but yes, we will keep training," sighed the old master. "Didn't you say you wanted to be a better bounty hunter than even your great grand parents? You have to train hard, every single day to even reach equal footing with an old man like me."<BR><BR>But Ran shook his head resolutely, "Forget it. I'd be killing myself! Nothing's worth dying over..."<BR><BR>He was promptly smacked upside the head.<BR><BR>"OW!"<BR><BR>"Fool, how can you say that?!" Fenarion scolded. "Of course there are things to die for? What if your mother was in danger? Or your little brothers and sisters?"<BR><BR>"Well..."<BR><BR>"Exactly. And with the skills you learn, if ever such a day comes in these dark times, YOU will be able to protect them. Our art is not just for hunting, but also for defending. And if you get good enough, you won't HAVE to die to protect those you love." <BR><BR>Ran sighed and picked up his blade again. "Alright. But why do I have to cut all this wood? I think grandma told YOU to cut all this yesterday."<BR><BR>"YOU IDIOT! YOU DARE DOUBT MY TRAINING METHODS!?"<BR><BR>Just then a softer, kinder tone interjected from nearby. "Fen? The wagon will be arriving in the afternoon, so get all those blocks cut up fast. They promise to give us a good bit of money."<BR><BR>For a moment there was silence.<BR><BR>"Training methods, eh?" the boy deadpanned.<BR><BR>The old man appeared to be at a loss for words. "Er... uh... WAIT! I got it! It serves a dual purpose! All the great teachers accomplish two things at once. DUAL PURPOSE, MY BOY! Two is better than one!"<BR><BR>"You just made that up didn't you?"<BR><BR>"Oh just cut the damn wood...."</i><BR>_________<BR><BR>"... crazy old man... ", Ran muttered. And though he was still unconscious, a very slight smirk appeared on his ashen face. The first blush of color was seeping into his cheeks. His right hand, closest to the sitting form of Silivren nearby, unclenched. On his palm lay a single, bloody fang. The size of which was larger than a man's index finger. It glittered malevolently in the light of the crescent moon.
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Postby Quimrill_Renctar » Mon Jun 30, 2003 7:21 pm

(ooc: hope you don't mind if I jump in, looks interesting)<BR><BR>Again suddenly the door to the Pony was flung open. It became apparent to inns patrons that it was once again raining outside as a man covered in a dripping black cloak fell through it.<BR><BR>A couple men nearest the door rose from their chairs half expecting yet another wounded man, but the man scrambled back to his feet and cast a grin about at the patrons reassuringly.<BR><BR>“I’m ok,” He raised his hands and smiled again, “I’m ok, just tripped over the frame there”<BR><BR>He managed only to stumble twice more on his way to the bar and cause the people close to him to burst out laughing at his apparent clumsiness. Muttering to himself about the ungainliness of wet cloaks he finally reached the bar and pulled up a stool. When he nearly slid of the side of it, he choose to stand trying to hide his latest mishap by flourishing hi cloak and leaning heavily on the bar.<BR><BR>“Brandy, double strong,” The man breathed heavily, catching his breath, “and a pint of ale is you can spare it”<BR><BR>The current bar master eyed him appraisingly, obviously wondering whether is clumsiness was caused by being already drunk and perhaps being already thrown out of one bar that night. The man produced a coin that caught the light with a golden glint and the bar master rushed off to get the drinks.<BR><BR>The man seemed to suddenly realize that he was wearing a sodden cloak again and staggered back over to the door. Taking off the garment he hung it up on one of the few vacant wooden pegs driven into the wall next to the door. As he turned back to the crowded common room the patrons got their first real glance at the man.<BR><BR>Roughly 6’3”, he was thin but muscled. Fair skinned with bright blue eyes and blond hair. He eyes seemed alight with merriness and laughter as he headed back to the bar to pick up his drinks. He carried at his him a medium length saber and wore fairly loose clothing. His tunic was black and the sleeves wide. His belt brown and thin that held his sword and his pants the same as his shirt if tighter. He also wore brown riding boots.<BR><BR>He flashed the patrons a toothy grin again after he had just managed to stay upright after another fall and finally made it to the bar. He took his drinks and nudged the gold coin across the counter to the bar master.<BR><BR>“Put that in my tab,” the man said brightly, “and if I leave without drinking it all, just keep what’s left”<BR><BR>With that he turned and made his way to a recently vacated table, surprisingly not tripping once. He put down the drinks and threw himself down in his chair with a sigh and nearly fell over. Once again miraculously he managed to keep himself upright and snatched his brandy.<BR><BR>Shaking his head as if annoyed at something, he downed the brandy in one long swig and grimaced as the liquor burned a hole in his throat as it went down.<BR><BR>A woman walked past him and bumped into a man heading towards the door across her path. Quite suddenly she began to topple and flung her arms out to catch herself. With surprising quickness the man who had just downed his brandy was up from his chair and catching her.<BR><BR>“Errr… Thanks,” The woman muttered and looked up at him.<BR><BR>“Not a problem mam,” The man made sure she was steady on her feet before giving a small bow, “Quim Fellrith, at your service”<BR><BR>He bowed again and quickly walked the two paces back to his table and sat down again…
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Postby Quimrill_Renctar » Mon Jun 30, 2003 7:21 pm

oops, double post
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Postby Liadan » Tue Jul 01, 2003 11:01 am

<i>The Old Forest was dark and dreary looking as Silivren rode on. She quietly dismounted her horse and kneeled on the ground putting her ear as close to the ground as possibly she was listening for anything that travelled slow on foot. She heard a distant scamper of a small animal yet no signs of a greater foe. She mounted her horse again and rode south for sometime. Few breezes came yet some of the easterly blowing winds brought a faint smell of the sea with them and a great sadness overcame her for she knew what the future would bring. <BR><BR>Her thoughts were left behind quickly when a soft rustle of leave entered her ear drums. She stopped the horse, jumped off silently and went behind a tree. Something was walking towards the opening of a Glade only a few feet in front of her the light of dawn was rising and she could see its outline was that of an Orc a wounded one at that. She unsheathed her sword and held it tightly as she moved forward towards the Orc. The Orc was wound by two arrows, one to its left shoulder and another in its right hip yet she sensed something else was wrong with the Orc as she moved closer to it to examine it. It would be an easy kill. Silivren stepped out from the trees and into the clearing to face the injured target. She held her sword out so it braely touched the tip of her nose and closed her eyes to focus her attention, to use the other senses. She thought this Orc to be like a practice doll she could use. As the Orc saw her he did not run he merely stood his ground and stared at her. Silivren did not need to open her eyes to know that the Orc was waiting for her to kill him. She could sense his yearning to be killed, she knew he had no will, and she also knew that she would kill him swiftly. With that she opened her eyes and within three steps she was about to take the Orc's head off when he swung at her and hit her clean in the ribs. </i><BR><BR><i>Silivren was slapped down to the ground about ten feet from the Orc who now fell to his knees with no strength left, he had used it on his furious hit/ Silivren smiled wearily, half amused yet half angry with herself for being so foolish. She got up and wiped the blood from her nose. Her breaths were so short she found it hard to move cleanly. She picked up her sword this time more wary of the Orcs movements and began to walk slowly then picking up her speed. The Orc tried to stand but Silivren already had its head on the forest floor before it could even lift a knee. The Orc fell forward and Silivren leaned on her sword, her nose was still bleeding and the pain from her ribs made it harder for her to breath. As she stood there studyng the Orc she noticed something on his left side. She put her sword down and pushed the creature onto its back she held in a breath. Something else has taken a bite out of the Orrc. There was a what looked to be claw marks on the side of him. Cut that were almost two inches deep and still seeping with blood. Silivren stood up and backed away, sheathing her sword she rode from the Orc who left with a forboding feeling. </i><BR><BR><i>By this time the pain in Silivrens ribs was excruitiating, she began to feel weak and tired as she heard the familiar song of Tom...</i><BR><BR>Silivrens thoughts were interrupted as the injured man muttered words that were devoured quickly by Silivrens thoughts. She turned from the window and looked at him. Wincing from the pain that still lingered around her ribs, she got up and walked over to him noticing some life flow through his face. She was surprised to see him smirk a little also. She thought this man truly remarkable for she thought they would bury him by dawn. She gentle touched his wrist feeling for a pulse when she saw something in his hand. She was not sure if she should pick it up through instict and curiosity told her to do so. She looked at the mans face and carefully took the object from his hand. As she studied it, her eyes widened it was a tooth covered with blood. The forboding feeling she had felt when she left thje Orc returned to her. <BR>"The Orc!" She whispered. Thoughts were racing through her head as she connecting the two together. She lifted the rags from his wounds... the were the same as the wounds the Orc had. Silivren gave a sharp intake of air as she stepped back from the bed looking hrd at the mans face wondering what had done this...
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Postby Ráca » Thu Jul 03, 2003 10:08 am

<i>Ráca nodded, a smile appearing on her lips underneath her cloak. Evidently he wasn't as foolhardy as he had seemed - for to have asked the name of the stranger who had so suddenly offered companionship indicated he was at least wary of her. A good start, but if Ráca had meant him harm she could have lied about her name. There was no way to guard against this, but all the same she would have to make sure he was more careful about others.<BR><BR>Forgetting it for now, she took a long swig of her tankard before answering, her voice soft and almost inaudible against the chatter in the Inn. Secrecy was of the utmost importance here - for if someone 'unwelcome' was to hear her name, they would be sure to seize upon it and retrieve the reward weighing about her neck every time Ráca ventured to a city or town. Unfortunately, her need for both an income and for some sort of socializing made total isolation impossible, and so she had to risk it.</i><BR><BR>"My name, Benoit, is Ráca Arthelion."<BR><BR><i>She paused for a moment, remaining silent while she listened carefuly around her for intakes of breath, or of anything suspicious... nothing presented itself. Thankful (the last thing she wanted tonight was a confrontation), she looked back at him, expectantly. Saying her name aloud in a crowded Inn had been a risk - and she most certainly was not going to risk pulling her hood down and revealing her distinctive features for all to see. For if they didn't know her by sight, they knew her by name - and with the reward floating about, the two came hand in hand.</i>
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Postby Quimrill_Renctar » Thu Jul 03, 2003 1:44 pm

“Werewolf’s and balderdash,” Quim almost snorted, “no such thing is you ask me” he muttered.<BR><BR>As he listened to the conversation however he became more and more intrigued. Perhaps there was such thing, just maybe. He could picture so many mature adults sitting about discussing such a ludicrous thing if there weren’t some truth in it. Maybe not a werewolf but something else.<BR><BR>Standing again, Quim hefted his pint and went to stand behind the young man with the sword. He stood there unashamedly waiting for someone to notice him and ask him his name and business.<BR><BR>He intended to get in on thins werewolf hunt if he could. He was a man who’s curiosity had been sparked and with no mediate purpose in life, not a good combination when trying to avoid danger.<BR><BR>Quim had just arrived from Rivendell were he had gone from Gondor. He was a mercenary though lately his tasks had been more currier than death dealing, and he was not likely to find work of any sort in Bree. Perhaps a rabbit trail for his own pleasure would do him some good. Of course if there was money… he would have to see about that.<BR>
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Postby Lady_Galadriel786 » Sat Jul 05, 2003 12:35 am

(OOC: Quim, I hope I am right in assuming you are from Rohan. And also, Léanë is 5’11”... so it is a bit strange that she ‘looked up’ at you, since you said you are 5’8”... do you want to edit your height, or must I? <img src="http://www.tolkienonline.com/mb/i/expressions/face-icon-small-happy.gif"border=0>)<BR><BR><b>IC:</b><BR>Léanë looked up into the most astonishing pair of bright blue eyes she had ever seen. <i>“Not a problem ma’am,” said the man.</i> He did not let go of her arms until he was sure she was steady on her feet, and then gave a small bow. <i>“Quim Fellrith, at your service.”</i> And then he walked back to his table without a backward glance. Léanë stared at his retreating back, slightly annoyed at being dismissed in this way, but grateful nevertheless that he had prevented her from falling and making a fool of herself. <BR><BR>She had the strangest feeling that she had seen that man... Quim Fellrith, was it? ...somewhere before. Léanë had no doubt that he was from Rohan, like she was, although his name seemed Elvish. His manner of speaking and his golden hair betrayed it. <i>Perhaps she had seen him in Edoras?</i> Léanë’s curiosity got the better of her and she decided to go over and talk to him. <BR><BR>She walked up to him (he was now standing near another table) and, taking a deep breath, said, “Excuse me, sir, but have we met before?” Quim looked at her, surprised, and then grinned mischievously. “Well, yes, my lady, we have.” “Really?” asked Léanë eagerly. “When?” His grin widened, and he replied, “Why, just a few moments ago, when I prevented you from falling on the floor! Do not tell me you have already forgotten?” “Oh! I... you...” choked Léanë, feeling, for a moment, like stamping her foot in frustration, like a child. “You know that was not what I meant!” she managed to finally say, beginning to feel (and look, she was sure) rather angry. He must have noticed this, because he suddenly turned serious and said, “I am sorry, my lady, I could not resist teasing. And no,” he continued. “We have not met before; I would have remembered. And please, do sit down!” He offered her an empty chair, before sitting down himself, and Léanë sat down on the chair he offered, feeling rather ashamed. “I am sorry,” she said, smiling slightly at him. “I did not mean to get angry. I simply wondered... you are from Rohan, are you not?” He nodded, and Léanë continued, “I, too, am from Rohan. That is why I thought we had met before.” She held out her hand, and smilingly said, “My name is Léanë al Móras. Thank you once again, Quim Fellrith, for ‘rescuing’ me.” Quim smiled back, and taking her hand, kissed it gently. “A pleasure to have met you, Léanë.” <BR><BR>Léanë snatched her hand away, appalled to find herself blushing. “Errr... umm... well, good then... So, what brings you to the Prancing Pony, Quim?” asked Léanë, hoping he had not noticed her discomfiture. As she waited for an answer, her gaze fell on two people sitting near the table where she and Quim sat. They seemed deep in conversation, and Léanë would have not thought anything of it, had it not been for the fact that one of them still had their hood up, hiding their face. Idly Léanë wondered why this was so, and whether the person beneath the cloak was a male or female.<BR><BR><BR><BR>~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~<BR>“I can resist everything except temptation.” <img src="http://www.tolkienonline.com/mb/i/expressions/face-icon-small-happy.gif"border=0> <BR><BR>~Dream Weaver of Destinies and Memories<BR><BR>~Master Ring Holder at the <a target="_blank" href="http://www.tolkienonline.com/thewhitecouncil/messageview.cfm?start=0&catid=37&threadid=49731">Rings of the Elements Guild</a> (<i>Three Rings for Elven kings beneath the sky...</i>)<BR><BR>~True-Blue Bookworm! <img src="http://www.tolkienonline.com/mb/i/expressions/face-icon-small-happy.gif"border=0> (Visit the Bookworms in their <a target="_blank" href="http://www.tolkienonline.com/thewhitecouncil/messageview.cfm?start=0&catid=24&threadid=63971">Lounge, Garden and Gothic Hall</a>)<BR><BR>~Daughter of the Stars, Twilight Sister of the <a target="_blank" href="http://www.tolkienonline.com/thewhitecouncil/messageview.cfm?start=0&catid=37&threadid=52394">Twilight Guild</a> (<i>The full moon rises out of the sea, slowly deepening from her pallid lustre into burnished silver; the world grows radiant, and is transfigured by her enchanting light...</i>)<BR><BR>~Master Bard and Proud Member of the <a target="_blank" href="http:// http://www.tolkienonline.com/thewhiteco ... adid=61713">Bard’s Guild</a> (<i>Being a Bard, I am told, is the oldest and most noble of professions. And after being a Bard practically all my life, I happen to agree.(It also helps that we get free drinks wherever we go! <img src="http://www.tolkienonline.com/mb/i/expressions/face-icon-small-happy.gif"border=0> <img src="http://www.tolkienonline.com/mb/i/expressions/face-icon-small-wink.gif"border=0>)</i>)<BR><BR>~Silk Ribbon Embroiderer of the <a target="_blank" href="http://www.tolkienonline.com/thewhitecouncil/messageview.cfm?start=0&catid=37&threadid=36615">Weaver’s Guild</a> (<i>Weaving the golden threads of friendship...</i>)<BR><BR>~Gryffindor Student at <a target="_blank" href="http://www.tolkienonline.com/thewhitecouncil/messageview.cfm?start=0&catid=37&threadid=62422">Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry</a> (“<i>Expecto patronum!</i>”)<BR><BR>~Looking for <a target="_blank" href="http://www.tolkienonline.com/thewhitecouncil/messageview.cfm?start=0&catid=37&threadid=65518">Kindred Spirits</a>? Come join us! (<i>You may just find who you are looking for!</i> <img src="http://www.tolkienonline.com/mb/i/expressions/face-icon-small-smile.gif"border=0>) <BR>
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Postby asaris » Mon Jul 07, 2003 5:58 am

"Ah..." Benoit said, raising an eyebrow. "I've heard of you -- you're right in saying we should speak in private. I have a room here already..."<BR><BR>Raca nodded, and the two headed up the steps to Benoit's room. The common room was beginning to thin out a little, as the bard had finished playing for the night, but many stayed to continue chatting, or drinking. <i>Raca Arthelion</i>, Benoit thought. <i>She's got a pretty penny on her head. But she's definitely more useful to me than the gold would be.</i> "But doesn't she work for money?" A nagging voice inside his head added. Benoit rejoined, <i>Perhaps. And I don't have a lot of money left after buying the sword. But I have some, and if it comes to it, hopefully it'll be enough.</i><BR><BR>They came to the room where Benoit was supposed to be staying, and Benoit swung open the door, inviting Raca in. But instead of an empty room, a badly injured man lay across Benoit's bed, and a healer sat at the window, musing something over. "Excuse me?" Benoit asked, calling to the healer. "This is supposed to be my room."
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Postby Alaklainiel » Mon Jul 07, 2003 10:06 am

Maniel sighed as she saw the two strangers she had met walk off together toward one of the rooms. Slightly appauled that they would just leave her and ignore her she sat in silence for a moment. Then Maniel remembered the man who had walked in to the Inn with such awful injuries. Her assistance may be needed as she was a healer. Maniel sighed again. She had already finished her rounds today. She was tired, thirsty, cold, and frustrated.<BR><BR>Maniel knew what she had to do though, so Maniel got up out of her seat and wandered towards the room where she had seen the injured man enter and she knocked softly on the door. After a few moments the same man that had recently left her with the cloaked woman opened the door looking slightly flustered.<BR><BR>"Oh, I'm sorry... I didn't mean too... I was looking for..." Maniel slightly flustered herself looked down at her feet knowing it would have been completely impossible for the man to understand what she had just said. Maniel straightened her self ot and then looked into the mans eyes and spoke calmly and clearly so that her accent would not mask what she said. " I was looking for the injured man. I think I may be of some asssitance for I am a healer. If you could point me to the right room that what be just wonderful." Maniel forced herself to smile a little at the end.<BR><BR>Then rather bluntly the man replied," You've found it." With that he opened the door to reveal the injured man lying on the bed. Maniel walked up to the man and looked under some of the cloths that were covering his body. The mans wounds were deep. Much deeper than she had thought when she had first seen him. Along his side a long gash was gaping exposing his ribs a little. He was not concious but Maniel knew that cut had to be stitched or it would never heal.<BR><BR>Maniel gasped as she walked away from the man slightly,her legs shaking from horror and cold. She looked up at the woman sitting next to him. "Hello, I am Maniel, a healer from Edoras. I was wondering if I couuld be of any assistance to you." Maniel tried to speak clearly, though she feared the woman would not understand her because of her accent. "I fear that this wound will need to be stitched she said to the woman who was now intently gazing at her. Maniel made eye contact with her for a moment but then turned her gaze away. <BR><BR>She hated to look into peoples eyes because it felt as though they could read her soul, and her soul was something that belonged to her, something that was no one elses to read.
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Postby Liadan » Tue Jul 08, 2003 9:58 am

Silivren looked up at the two people whom entered the room. It took her a few moments to collect her thoughts. It was a man and what looked to be a woman who followed behind him. The man asked her a question, “Excuse me? This supposed to be my room.” Silivren clenched the tooth tightly as she made her response, “Well… if I had known I would not be here, however, the manager put us in this room. Why? Judging from our situation he may not have had anymore rooms available. Maybe he thought you would not mind as you can see from the man lying half dead on this bed right here, he needed assistance quickly. I <i>hope </i>you do not mind.” <BR><BR>Silivren looked down at the man this was a pure mystery and until he awoke from unconsciousness’ she knew she would not find out. She looked at his dressing for a moment; blood stains began to show through the damp material. If the man did not die from the wounds he would surely of blood loss. There was a hesitant knock on the door and the man who had entered before went to open it. A woman walked in with ouches attached to her waist, Silivren knew she was a well trained healer. As the woman spoke to her Silivren studied her. "Hello, I am Maniel, a healer from Edoras. I was wondering if I could be of any assistance to you." She said as she blushed a bit as the people in the room stared at her. Silivren noted her accent and wondered about it for; she had heard it before when she had traveled through Rohan. "I fear that this wound will need to be stitched.” Silivren gave no response she merely stared into the woman’s eyes trying to make some sort of conclusion about her yet, she closed herself off. Silivren thought this very interesting for she had never known any human but her fellow Dunedain, do this. Yet she closed off for a different reason and this she did not hide well, Silivren read it in her face within seconds. <BR><BR>She smiled darkly at the woman. “I have cleaned them,” she said as politely as possible though she meant it not. “They are bleeding still. I would have given him the stitches myself, though I have nothing but twine here with me, if worse came to worse I would have used that. Yet, I am pleased that you have arrived exactly when I wanted you too. Please,” she finished holding out her hand towards the injured man as she looked at the woman name Maniel. <BR>
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Postby Ráca » Tue Jul 08, 2003 12:05 pm

<i>Ráca had noticed a man standing hesitantly near their table just before Benoit had responded, and motioned to him to wait and keep their table as she eased herself from her seat andventured upstairs with Benoit. The Inn was filling up fast, and he would be justly rewarded with quite a conversation when they returned. Assuming he stayed, of course...<BR><BR>Following Benoit up the staircase, Ráca took a quick mental check of her surroundings, her ears searching for the noices ahead of them as they turned into the corridor, a window-strewn wall to their left and a series of doors to their right.<BR><BR>Benoit turned to his right after a while, mentioning that through that particular door was his room as he pushed it open - but it, much to his evident surprise, was occupied already.<BR><BR>As soon as he pushed his way in and enquired of their presence, Ráca became suddenly very wary. She doubted they could have tracked her here - but to check wouldn't hurt. Still cautious, she walked back outside and peered through the window, listening with half an ear to both the introducvtions of the healer and the sharply sarcastic words of the woman already at the bedisde of the injured man. Briefly, she was tempted to cut back with a chilling reply of her own, but thought better of it. <BR><BR>The last thing she needed now was to make more enemies. <BR><BR>And already she was wary of Benoit, spotting the recognition of her name in his eyes, and understanding that he knew there was a price on her head. He was clearly considering his next move, and as she considered hers, Ráca's sword hand played with a blade at her belt. If he was going to try and turn her in, she would have to 'indispose' him.... and she had decided she quite liked Benoit, so she sincerely hoped she wouldn't have to.<BR><BR>Even so, keeping a close eye on him wouldn't hurt.
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Postby Alaklainiel » Tue Jul 08, 2003 4:52 pm

Maniel hesitated slightly, was she to stitch this man's wounds? Without the regular herbs she used to sedate people? He was unconcious at the moment yes, but what if he woke up? He could go into shock, or worse he could suddenly realize what was happening and thrash out, then the stitches may rip his skin more and the wound wound get worse instead of better. Maniel quickly considered all her options. Without stitches the man may bleed to death, were the risks worth taking? Maniel decided to voice her concern to the other woman.<BR><BR>"I do not have anything to sedate him with, and I am afraid if he wakes up he may go into shock... or worse yet rip out the stitches and make the wound even worse. Should we take the risk, he otherwise may bleed to death... though I'm sure you've already thought of that." Maniel ended rather shyly and cast her eyes down. She wasn't sure what to think of this woman at the moment. She was afraid of her, more out of respect than fear, but being with a stranger made her body quiver. Maniel waited for the woman to respond, but after a minute of waiting she heard no reply. "I have a needle and some stitching thread if you should like to stitch the wound. The thread is made from a herb I found growing near the edge of Edoras, it speeds the healing process I have found." Maniel noticed she was rambling on and it was probably impossible to understand her with her thick accent. She quickly fumbled around with a pouch on her belt and pulled out the proper supplies. She held them out to the woman, "If you will?"<BR><BR>The woman took the stitching supplies from Maniel and once again Maniel cast down her eyes. She hated this, the tension in the room, starngers surrounding, she could almost cut the air with a knife. Maniel turned her attention back to the paitient. What could have happened to him? What earthly tool could make wounds so deep, but not to kill? Why hadn't whatever it was just finished him off? Maniel guessed probably they had wanted a slow gruesome death for this man, and so far their plan was succeeding. Maniel hoped they would be on time to save this mans life... Instinctivly Maniel reached over and stroked the mans hair. She looked down into his lifeless face. In a room of strangers he was the one person she felt safe about, the one person who wouldn't judge her, couldn't judge her.
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Alaklainiel
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Postby Meluivain » Tue Jul 08, 2003 8:23 pm

Gwen knocked briefly on the door where the injured man was resting. More to let them know she was entering than asking for permission she opened the large wooden door. Expecting to see one mabey two people four was somewhat of a suprise. One seemed to be leaning over the man and what seemed to be her assistant, though she didnt see anyone enter with her, handed her various threads and cloth's while the woman buisily worked. Two others stood in the corner wispering to eachother quietly at times. Reconising her as a barmaid the man walked over to her.<BR>"Miss, this was supposed to be my room but it seem to be occupied by this man," he gestured to the bed. <BR>"Yes it seems to be occupied," Gwen said looking at the bed then walking over to it. She watched the woman work for several minutes in silence. The man writhed in what seemed to be pain thought his eyes stayed closed. <BR>"Is he sedated??," she asked in somewhat of a paincked tone. A concious operation could be deadly, especially for someone with so much blood loss. The woman shot her a sharp glance and returned to her work. The woman standing next to her answered.<BR>"No, i'm afraid not," she said with a heavy accent. <BR>"Do you not have the herbs??" Gwen asked. The 'assistant' woman nodded no.<BR>"I have some in my room, i'll go get them..." Gwen trailed as she left the room.
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