The World of Layonara

Character Development => Development Journals and Discussion => Topic started by: ShiffDrgnhrt on June 02, 2010, 03:01:26 pm

Title: Tyr'riel - Twists of Fate
Post by: ShiffDrgnhrt on June 02, 2010, 03:01:26 pm

Swaddled comfortably in what must have been velvet, a little Corsainian boy travelled through the dark in the arms of a very dangerous man.  He did not know what had caused him to be in this man's arms, nor might he ever know.  'It would be better for him not to,' a certain woman, destined to become his 'mother' would say.  When he was brought into dimly lit room, hidden in the earth, the only thing that would disturb him would be the hunger in his belly.

And that's where fate turned.  It wasn't a desire to do anything other than sooth a crying baby that caused his soon to be 'mother' to want to take care of him.  It was not sense of justice.  How could she know what was justice in this situation?  All she knew is it was better off with her than forgotten in an orphanage, wondering about his history which would only lead him back to that hidden chamber, seeking revenge, and ultimately dying in vain.

Instead he was brought back to Co'rys, brought back to an old, haunted tower to sleep in a makeshift crib built of broken beams and animal skins, a pair of purple eyes watching over him...

Title: Re: Tyr'riel - Twists of Fate
Post by: RollinsCat on June 04, 2010, 11:09:43 am

A man reclined on his side across a bright cotton quilt, a baby lying against his chest.  The bed was clean; the furniture sturdy and the floor swept; an open bay window gave a full view the docks.  He'd paid quite a bit for this room but he wanted to see each ship arrive.  The rich tapesty of sound drifting in formed the orchestra to the songs he'd sung to his audience of one over the last four days.  It had been four days of bliss, with no worries and no demands.  But the mother would come hunting him soon and so he pushed his spectacles further up his nose and looked down at the infant.

"Aunt Aya's ship is late, and I have to take you home.  A shame, I was hoping to introduce you..."  The infant gurgled and waved a hand in the air with a drooling smile.  The man stroked the boy's cheek and marvelled, again, that anything could be so soft.  

"Are you ready to go, then?  We'll meet Aunt Aya and Minu another time.  I'm not sorry we had these days though.  You're going to be musical, I can tell."  He leaned to whisper, the baby smiling when the man's long hair tickled his face and neck.  "We're going to make that mother of yours sing, Tyri.  'Bad enough I miss your songs when you're gone'...yes, and I think you'll help me, won't you."  A giggle-snort, which he took for assent.  

"Good.  I'll write her some lullabys she can sing you.  Time to go, son."  The boy was lifted and tucked into a sling, and the packs and instruments arranged on the man's back.  He turned to give the docks of Port Hempstead one more worried look and left, closing the door with a quiet click.

Title: Re: Tyr'riel - Twists of Fate
Post by: RollinsCat on June 08, 2010, 01:10:21 pm

It was a happy day.  Dada carried in stuff.  Mama swept and Tyr'riel's floor was covered in softy tickly stuff that was warm.  They took away his dirt and little rocks but it didn't taste good so it was okay.  Dada made a lot of happy noise, on his funny sticks and singing.  Mama smiled sometimes which she didn't do often.  Tyr'riel liked this and held out chubby arms to be picked up so he could see the happy closer.  

There was a lot more stuff in the room now and he liked this too.  The soft floor was harder to move on so he rolled to what he wanted to touch and taste.  Dada put all his sticks and noisemaking things up high and Ty was mad about that but he forgot when Dada gave him a toy, his toy.  It was really soft and looked like a dog, or close enough.  He tasted and decided it was good.  

Dada had his own sleep place and a table and his noisemakers.  Mama's sleep place was pushed into a corner so the middle of the floor was left open for Ty.  Dada also dragged in a big bucket, big enough to hold Dada.  Mama didn't like that but Dada got to keep it even though he had to put in the room Mama never let Ty see.  Dada and Mama talked loud about Mama's boots on the soft floor but Mama ended up getting to keep them on.

He slept sometimes and woke, and Mama and Dada were still there and the room was full of Dada's happy sounds.  Mama even made some happy noises too, a little, like when it was just Mama and Ty and no one else.  Dada gave him some food that was sweet and he liked this very much.  And he had his toy.

It was a good day.

Title: Re: Tyr'riel - Twists of Fate
Post by: MommaT on June 13, 2010, 04:59:03 pm

Autumn giggled as she played with Tyr'riel, holding both of his hands and walking over him as he wobbled across the floor. The pair stopped moving as Ty looked around the room, and spotted his toy. He looked up at Autumn, to see if she saw the toy too, and the two of them wobbled their way over to it. Ty shakily let go of one of Autumn's hands to pick up the toy, toppling over in the process. Autumn smiled as the toddler gave the toy a big hug. "Dog," said Autumn, "Can you say 'dog?'" "Dah!" The boy offered the toy to Autumn, smiling. She grinned and accepted his gift. "It's a very nice dog," she said, petting it.

Just then, there was some loud pounding as someone hammered down a loose nail. Ty looked up at Autumn with a concerned face, wondering how he should react. She looked back and smiled, putting her hands over her ears and shouting, "Loud!" Ty imitated her, covering his ears, but still looking around the house wondering what the noise was. Autumn distracted him by making silly faces at him and tickling him with his toy.

"Hm...I think it's snack time! Ready?" She stood over him and held out her hands expectantly. Ty looked up and offered his hands to Autumn, who pulled him to his feet. "Here we go!" The two of them wobbled off to make some applesauce.

Title: Re: Tyr'riel - Twists of Fate
Post by: RollinsCat on June 18, 2010, 11:32:35 pm

Dada had been using the feather on his desk most of the day, and the sticks with the pretty colors too.  He'd fed Ty and they'd sung together.  Ty liked to sing.  

Sometimes he'd go to Dada's desk and Dada would let him sit on his lap and watch but when he tried to help Dada would put him back on the rug with a smile.

Autumn and Mama weren't there so Ty had to play with Tiger while Dada played with his sticks and his feather.  Tiger would play with Dada's wooden balls though and that made Ty giggle.  He pushed the balls to Tiger and Tiger would bite them until Ty came and got them and they did it again and again.  Then Ty found a bowl of strawberries and shared them with Tiger who liked that until Dada turned around and saw them and pulled the strawberry Ty had been sharing with Tiger from Ty's mouth.

Then he made Ty take a bath.  Ty didn't like that.

It was sleepytime and Dada picked up the thing on the desk he'd been playing with.  He sat down on the floor with his back to Mama's bed and Ty got in his lap and Dada showed him the toy.

"Ty, this is a book.  Daddy wrote it for you, and I'll add new stories to it.  Maybe Mommy will too.  Someday you'll be able to read this."  Ty didn't know what a book or a story was but he wanted to see what Dada had been playing with all day.  Dada carefully opened the brown top.

"A is for apple, and Autumn, and ant..."  It was pictures!  Dada was talking but there were pictures!  An apple!  And Autumn, a picture of Autumn!

"'tum!  'tum!"  He pointed.  

"Yes, that's Autumn....or Daddy's best rendition of her."  Ty wasn't listening.  He wanted to see more pictures.

"B is for book, and bird, and butterfly..."  Ty loved the pictures.  Mama came home, but Ty didn't notice and neither did Dada until she lay down on the bed above them and read over Dada's shoulder.  Sometimes she would lean down and give Ty a kiss while he pointed out the pictures to her.  She kissed Dada once too, on his cheek.

"D is for Daddy, and dog, and..."  A picture of Dada, which Ty pointed to a dozen times.  Mama thought the picture was funny and said something that made Dada reach back and poke her in the tummy.

There were a lot of pictures.  He couldn't remember them all.  Elf and guitar and horse and halfling; icicle, jam and lamb; moth and mace and...

"Mama!  Mama!  Mama!"  He was bouncing in Dada's lap.  There was a picture of Mama!  She was pretty with her purple eyes and smiling.  Mama didn't say anything about the picture but she looked at Dada a lot then gave Ty another kiss.

More words and pictures.  He was getting sleepy.  He kept making Dada go back to his picture and Mama's.  Dada flipped past a bunch of pictures.

"T is for..."  Ty was too tired to bounce but let out a really happy squeak.  It was a picture of him, a whole half of the toy was a picture of him playing with Tiger.  "...Tyr'riel, and Tiger."  He made Dada stay on that page.  He looked at the picture again and again.  His tummy felt warm.  He looked up at Mama to show her his picture again, in case she had missed it the first fifteen times he'd made her look, and she had her hand in Dada's hair.  He didn't seem to mind.  He looked kind of sleepy too.

More words, then Mama and Dada whispering which meant he was going to sleep soon.  Dada shut the book.  

It was a good day, except for the bath.

Title: Destroying the Past...
Post by: ShiffDrgnhrt on June 21, 2010, 09:25:13 pm

Tyra sat at her desk, watching Tyr'riel trying to wrestle Tiger while Andrew was away.  Instead of letting the dog sleep, Tyr'riel would crawl up to the dog and tug his ears, poke his snot, pounce (as only toddlers can) on to his chest, tug his tail, resulting in the dog thwapping the boy on the head with his paw, or mouthing the boy knocking him on his bottom.  The boy just laughed, and tried harder, making Tyra grin at his efforts.

In Tyra's hands sits a rice paper map, the map that led her, ultimately, to those who had the boy, whom after Tyra was given him, became Tyr'riel.  She knew she did not want the boy to know, though.  If Quill got his hands on him...

She had wanted to give the boy the map, though.  Just the map.  No explanation other then to spark his interest and perhaps give him a chance to learn something.

But not anymore.  She stuck it in the fireplace without a second thought, and went over to remove the fiesty toddler from his canine victim.

"Come on, Tyr'riel.  About time you met your Grand parents..."

Title: Happy Birthday, Orphan Boy
Post by: ShiffDrgnhrt on June 24, 2010, 03:47:29 pm

~Threas, Apreal 19, 1467~

It's been a year since Tyra brought the boy home with her.  What was once a (mostly) quiet infant is now a (mostly) quiet toddler, except for when Andrew sings to him.  Tyra, being the way she is, does not speak much to him.  She's much more tactile than verbal.  She holds him, hugs him, tickles him, and lets him touch things, reserving words for when they are needed.  Andrew, on the other hand, talks to him unceasingly, telling him stories or singing him songs, teaching him the names of pictures or pretending to be Tyr'riel talking to Tyra.

To mark the occasion, Tyra made him a deer skin vest.  Black, of course.  She also made him a teddy bear.  It too was black, with greenstone eyes and a white patch for it's belly.  Andrew, on the other hand, made him a slide whistle, which Tyra took away after the first five minutes of the boy's 'performance.'

Tyra also made him a rice cake.  His first taste of 'solid' food.

Shiff, Tyra's father, ended up crashing the party, much to the boy's delight.  He wanted to give the boy his first sword, by which he planned to give the boy a full blown greatsword.  In a rare moment of agreement, both Tyra and Andrew urged Shiff to wait until the boy was at least as tall as the sword.  Tyr'riel, of course, was just enamored with a shiny thing to look at, though he never got to touch it.

Valmara, Tyra's mother, was there too, shaking her head at her husband's idea of a present for a toddler.  Her present was a big cookie, which the boy was thankfully unaware of how bad her cooking was when he started munching on it.

Eventually, after many hours of the boy playing with the two new big people, it was bed time.

Title: Re: Tyr'riel - Twists of Fate
Post by: RollinsCat on July 03, 2010, 06:14:23 am

Tyr'riel woke and there was talking and scraping and thumping.  The big BIG man was there, helping Daddy move stuff out of the room.  Ty had seen him before, the big BIG man, and liked him.  Sometimes when the big man was there he would sing which Ty liked because the man's voice was so deep it made him tickle; but Daddy seemed to like it more and sang with the big man and wrote things.

Watching the big BIG man and Daddy move stuff was funny because the big man was as much taller to Daddy as Daddy was to everyone else so all the stuff was tilted.  It made Ty giggle.  Tiger kept running around them too and barked a bunch.

Mama was packing things and moving them out.  She talked a lot more than usual about "don't forget this" and "let's leave that" but she seemed happy.  Or maybe it was because she was around Daddy.  She was always happier around Daddy.  But sometimes she'd stop and touch the walls of the room and then she'd look a little sad.  She didn't cry though.

Daddy didn't talk much because he was moving stuff and he got tired quick.  So it took all the way to Ty's late snack for the room to get empty.

Daddy came and got Ty and carried him outside.  Mama came out with Ty's crib.  There was a long cart with Daddy's big white horse in front.  Daddy made a space for Ty in the cart with blankets and his toys, so he could play.  Tiger got a space too, near Ty.  Mama came out and got on the cart and they both said goodbye and thank you to the big BIG man who didn't say much but waved.

They left.

It was a long trip, Daddy and Mama talking some and sometimes letting Ty sit up with them - always holding him a little too tight - and sometimes they made him stay in his space while Mama watched him.  Daddy always had the ropes in his hand to make the horse go, Mama didn't do that.  Daddy would put his stinky sticks in his mouth and Mama would make faces and grumpy noises.  Ty slept a lot.

He didn't know how long but it was light and dark and light and dark.  Then they went through some gates and there were people, more people than Ty have ever seen before.  He hid low in his spot and watched through a space in the cart sides.  Lots of people, lots of noise.

The cart stopped and Ty peeked out and smelled something funny.  There were noisy birds and bells clanging and men yelling back and forth, boxes and people moving around, and the air smelled like when Mama cooked fish but different.  Mama and Daddy left the cart and the horse by a big...boat?  It was like a picture Daddy had made him.  A boat.  Only so big Ty thought a whole bunch of cart would fit in it.  Men were moving their stuff into a hole in the boat and Ty and Mama and Daddy walked up a board and then Ty could see a bunch of stuff, buildings and people, and yelled until they held him up higher.  Daddy had to put his silver shiny things on his face.

It was a long time on the boat.  Ty slept a lot and so did Mama.  Daddy was outside almost the whole time and Ty even saw him in the white sheets sometimes, over Ty's head.  Mama watched Daddy do this and Ty could tell she was thinking because her face did that scrunchy thing.

Then the boat stopped and they got off and Daddy was happy.  More happy,  because he'd been happy a lot.  The stuff went to different places; Daddy dropped Mama and her stuff off at a big house and then took Tiger and the white horse to another big house.  Tiger jumped right out and ran inside, barking, and Ty heard another bark even deeper than Tiger's.  And a lady's voice.

Daddy took him inside.  Ty held on to Daddy's hair and looked around.  He could see big dragon-birds but they didn't move.  There was a lot of stuff in the room.  Daddy took him into a smaller room, with another crib like the one they'd left at Mama's house.  

"Welcome home, Ty."  Daddy was so happy that Ty was happy too.  Ty got to look around; there was a big big desk, books that Daddy ran around and picked up before Ty could get to them, more of Daddy's music sticks and a bunch of his rappers (or that's what Ty thought they sounded like) which Daddy moved up high so Ty couldn't reach.  And a big bucket with water in it - which Ty didn't like.  It meant Daddy could give him baths.

They laid down on a big bed and Daddy let him bounce until Mama came in.  Ty was so tired by then that his crib felt as soft as clouds when they finally laid him in it.

It was the longest bunch of days he could remember.

Title: Re: Tyr'riel - Twists of Fate
Post by: RollinsCat on September 25, 2010, 02:34:38 pm

Originally posted by Shiffdrgnhrt:

Another year had gone by.

The little boy was now walking, something his mother found annoying. No longer would he sit in one spot chewing on a toy or banging things together, but now he was taking things off shelves, opening drawers, knocking over bottles, and running after mice. Mother would tie a leash around his waist and keep all but his toys out of reach, but he was learning how to unbuckle it. The only time he wasn't tied down is when his mother took him to see Father or Autumn.

Father didn't mind the boy's locomotion as much. He would let Tyr'riel chase Tiger around, or make forts out of pillows for the boy to demolish. but even Andrew found it uncanny that the boy would find ways to get at Andrew's instruments, even the heavier ones. Andrew once turned around after giving him a bath to find the boy almost into the case of Andrew's most precious violin, and also got woken up in the middle of the night by Tyr'riel blowing on some pan-pipes. A strange mix of pride and annoyance was on Father's face that day.

Autumn on the other hand made use of Tyr'riel's new found propulsion to play hide and seek. She giggled as Tyr'riel would just chase her around through the leaves, but surprised how well he managed to search for her.

And then there are times where he would just suddenly stop and listen and stare out in to his surroundings. Autumn and Mother would find him staring down rabbits, foxes, even the occasional chipmunk gorged on acorns. But he would just stop and stare. Then just as suddenly try to chase them down. Mother always seemed to smile after that, and Autumn used to giggle. 'That must mean it's a good thing,' he thought. 'One day I'll even catch something.'

Title: Re: Tyr'riel - Twists of Fate
Post by: RollinsCat on September 25, 2010, 02:36:43 pm

Originally posted by RollinsCat:

Gentle scratchings of quill on paper. A warm and patient tenor voice.

"Okay, Ty. What letter is this?"

"Uh, uh...tee."

"Good!" More soft writing. "And what is this one?"

"Uh...uh...Idunno."

"It's a Y. You know, like that word you say all the time? Why? It sounds like that." The voice sounds like it's smiling. The sound of a quill again. "This one?" A tap.

"Aaaaarrrrrrrrrr!" The child's voice drags the sound out like a pirate, and there is a giggle.

A quick scratch on the paper. "I haven't explained this yet but it's called a comma, to separate the first and second sounds of your name. Say it with me: Comma."

"Kama."

"Good, that's a comma. And this again..." A plunk, a quick rapping of metal on glass, then the whispered scritching again, longer this time.

"Arr arr arr!"

"R, yes it is. And this one?"

"Eyyyyyyyyeeeee."

"I, right. And this is..."

"EeeeeeeeeeeeeEE!" Giggles again.

"Right, the same sound Mommy makes when I tickle her. And last is..."

"Uhhh...eye?"

"No...."

"Uhm, mm..." The child's voice trails off.

"Say your name, your whole name."

"Ti-ri-el."

"Okay, say it again, and listen to the last letter sound. The last sound in your name."

"Ti-ri-el. Ti-ri-ellllllllllllll...lllllll...ell!"

"VERY good, very good." Patting, and then the echo of little feet bouncing on the floor.

"Yay, yay! Cookie?"

A sigh...

Title: Re: Tyr'riel - Twists of Fate
Post by: RollinsCat on September 25, 2010, 02:38:41 pm

Originally posted by MommaT:

Autumn takes Ty'riel out for a walk in the woods for some exploring and learning. She crouches down next to him and speaks softly.

"I know a special trick for hide-and-seek, want to know what it is?"

The boy nods and listens intently.

"You can find where people are by looking for their foot prints." She turns around and points to their own tracks. "These are your foot prints, and these ones are mine. Do you want to try finding me by using my foot prints?" The boy nods again. "Okay, I'm going to go hide, and I want you to close your eyes and count to 30." Ty'riel begins counting, as Autumn runs off to hide, being sure to stay on ground where she will leave foot prints that are easy for a child to follow. Ty grins when he finds Autumn, who motions for him to stay quiet. Autumn speaks in a whisper. "You did it! Good job! Look down here." Autumn points to some tracks on the ground. "These are bear foot prints, do you want to see if we can find the bear by following the foot prints?" The boy's eyes grow wide, and he nods excitedly. "Okay, you'll have to stay really quiet so we don't scare it away." The two quietly creep along, following the tracks, until they see the bear munching on some blueberries. "Look Ty, the bear is eating! You should never bother a wild bear when it's eating, or it might get angry and attack you. Does that bear look familiar to you?" Ty'riel looks closely at the bear, and then smiles when he realizes who it is. "Osarya!" "That's right! That's Osarya!" Autumn calls Osarya over, and they both pet her happily before joining her in her blueberry snack time.

Title: Re: Tyr'riel - Twists of Fate
Post by: RollinsCat on September 25, 2010, 02:39:33 pm

Originally posted by RollinsCat:

He was sick, again. He didn't know it was bad. He didn't know why his parents wrapped his hands so he could not itch the little hurting spots on his face and chest or why he was rocked night after night and held when he wanted to scratch, or why they were all so very worried. He only knew that his head hurt a lot and he was tired, too tired to play and sometimes all the stuff in his tummy came out of his mouth and tasted bad and felt worse. And he wanted to scratch and they wouldn't let him.

Mommy and Daddy and Autumn whispered a lot. Daddy sang which he usually liked but sometimes he wanted Daddy to be quiet because the sound made his head hurt a lot more. But he was too sick to talk.

They made him drink. He didn't want to. They patted him with wet rags that were cool and it hurt, he wanted to be warm, not cold. He cried for a little bit but it only made the ouch worse so he quit, finally, and just lay in Daddy's arms, not understanding, not caring anymore. It all just hurt.

Daddy cried a lot.

Title: Re: Tyr'riel - Twists of Fate
Post by: RollinsCat on September 25, 2010, 02:40:18 pm

Originally posted by RollinsCat:

He was moved again - from the houses with the dragons and the big bath to a new room, far away. At least he thought it was far away. There was lots of time on boats, which he didn't like too much at first because they made him stay in his room even when he wasn't sick and he couldn't run around on the deck no matter how much neat stuff was up there. He was bored and cranky until Autumn made up a game called "Can't See Me" where they would sneak around and try not to get caught. He loved that and then it wasn't so bad - when Mama found out she tried to frown but he could see she was really kind of happy about it and she didn't hardly scold Autumn at all.

Then it got cold, and then there was snow. Lots of it, which made him kind of excited because it looked like a lot of fun to play in, when he felt better. He was sick though and stayed in Mama's arms, all wrapped up in an itchy bear skin.

Mama took him into a big stone house with snow all around and stopped outside to talk to Autumn about something and the talking and warmth and sickness put him to sleep.

When he woke he was in a stone room and Daddy was there, talking to a voice he didn't know. They thought he was asleep so they kept talking and he stayed pretending, breathing quiet and slow like he'd learned. They were talking about Daddy being sick then Mama started being bad and Daddy yelled at her, or kind of yelled, he never raised his voice much. Pretty Elly was there and joined in and Autumn too and Mama whined then got quiet.

Then they talked a lot about being sick and Daddy wanting cigars, and Daddy and Mama had a talk after everyone was gone. He fell asleep in between the sick and the cigars for real because the bed was really soft and he was tired. But he woke up again when just Mama and Daddy were talking and Daddy gave this long talk about some old bard Willie and trust, and she got mad but not really for long, she just sounded tired. Then they moved him to a cot and he pretended to wake up.

He was happy to see Daddy, and Daddy was happy to see him even if Daddy had bandages on under his clothes and gloves like he'd been hurt. They talked and tickled and Ty's little cot wasn't as comfy as the bed until Daddy put the bear skin under the sheets to make it softer then it was warm and thick and he went right back to sleep.

The next day he got to play in the snow and made friends with another little boy in the temple who had something wrong with his legs, and he saw a lot of Daddy that day, and the next, and the next, and the next...

It was a good time, except for being sick.

Title: Re: Tyr'riel - Twists of Fate
Post by: RollinsCat on September 25, 2010, 02:41:39 pm

Originally posted by RollinsCat:

A forth birthday came and went with a little party for him by Daddy, Mother, Elly, and Autumn, held in the temple. Nick was there too but Ty's other friends were gone home now. He wasn't sick on his birthday either, although the sickness still came and went, only less than before. A little less bad each time. But Aeridin made him not sick on his birthday and he thought that was a nice present from the god Daddy called their "host".

Instead of cake, Elly made a really big cookie, big enough to be a cake, the tastiest cookie he'd every had. Way better than Grandma Val's and Mother's even. She taught him the elven words for "celebration of a life's progression" (which she said was birthday, essentially) and "cookie, please". Everyone was using elven these days, since Mother was teaching both Daddy and him to speak it. He was learning way faster than Daddy.

Autumn gave him a cloak that was all kinds of browns, greens, some yellow - it was all spotted but she said it would help him hide. He went to bed wearing it sometimes. Nick made him a picture of the two of them together, sitting because Nick couldn't walk. Daddy said Nick had talent. Ty loved the picture and begged until they had it framed so it would not get ripped. And there were a tiny bag of candies from someone Daddy knew, a lady named Anna. He really liked the candy.

Grandmother and Grandfather Reid sent him a cup, saucer, plate and bowl just for him - it came late though because they sent it to the old house, with the two dragons in the big room. Grandma and Grandpa Dragonheart sent him a big cold-weather cloak. Mother said Grandma must have picked the gift this year.

Mother gave him a little wooden sword. It looked like Mother's right-hand sword and she'd had Daddy paint frost on it even. He loved it but Mother was stern when she gave it to him. This is for practice with me, Tyr'riel. Don't hit anyone with it - or else! And she kept it when she wasn't showing him how to use it after the first time he went "monster hunting" in the temple storeroom and valiantly slayed a menacing bag of ground wheat, two evil boxes of nuts, and a jar of maple syrup (an innocent bystander - he'd have to work on his return swing, said Mother, trying not to laugh).

Those practices would become some of his strongest, and best, memories of her.

Daddy gave him two presents. The first was a guitar Daddy had made for him. It was made of hickory and was just small enough for Ty to learn but Daddy said it would last him a little while before he needed a big one. Ty was happy Daddy hadn't made him a violin. He liked guitar much better.

The second present was his most favorite though; his very own swing. The temple didn't have many places to play, so Daddy found a big, strong old oak with a long branch that was on the temple grounds and made him a swing with a short board and some rope. He made one for Nick too with rope to tie him on and a back so he wouldn't fall backwards too much. Nick's mama liked it a lot and Nick was always wanting to go out and swing even if it was snowing.

Ty's swing had his name carved on it, like a throne. Tyr'riel William Reid Dragonheart. Mother and Daddy argued a lot over the name - he didn't know he had a middle name until then, and apparently neither did Mother. Daddy won that argument the same way he'd won the ones about calling Tyr'riel Ty - he just wore Mother down. But she would not budge on Reid Dragonheart. Every argument from Daddy that it should be Dragonheart Reid got the same response from Mother: she had Ty first, and if Daddy wanted to cough up a ring and get properly married and be monogamous (whatever that meant) then she'd think about changing it. It always shut Daddy up, but since they came to the temple they didn't have that argument anymore.

It was a good birthday, and he loved his swing.

Title: Re: Tyr'riel - Twists of Fate
Post by: RollinsCat on September 25, 2010, 02:42:12 pm

Originally posted by Shiffdrgnhrt:

Mother's toy has turned out to be more work then fun. Every morning when the sun isn't up yet (and the grass is still frosty) Mother comes into my room and wakes me. She scared me so bad the first time. She was dressed in all black, which was not the scary part since she is almost always in black. It was the way she appeared like a black shadow in the door, dressed liked the bad guys in Daddy's songs.. Mother never snuck up on me like that before. She simply tossed Gramma's cloak at me and told me to get up and be outside before the sun came up... or else. I never liked "or else"...

When I went outside, Mother handed me my wooded sword, stuck into a new leather holster. Even a belt! She told me to put it on, which I did but it wasn't easy. It did not have a buckle like Daddy's. Mother showed me how to tie it though, making a small loop in front. It felt nice. I felt like Mother and Daddy, ready to slay more monsters... just no more slaying syrup jars. Mother made me clean the entire store room after that. (Daddy wanted her to "let me slide" but Mother said something about responsibility and consequences and handed me a bucket and brush).

We then walked off toward the woods. Autumn was heading back with a berry basket but Mother kept me from running over for some. Autumn just smiled and said she'd see me later. She looked unsure of something though, but when Mother looked at her Autumn just nodded and went back to the temple.

After a long walk in the woods, we arrived at a clearing, with all sorts of weird wooden things in it. Some looked like circles within circles, another looked like a weird person, and then there were more wooden weapons. They were too big for me. That's when Mother told me to sit on an old log and pay attention. She said that as long as we were at the temple, we would come here once a week "to train." I didn't know what that meant, but she said it was like playing and learning at the same time. I was a little bit excited. Mother said she wanted me to be able to take care of myself when she's not around.

The rest of the day Mother showed me how to properly use my sword, but I started falling asleep around lunch time. She kept saying that if I don't focus I would never learn, so every time I saw a squirrel or chased a butterfly she made me work harder.She wouldn't let me rest though, even when I cried cause my feet hurt, until Daddy showed up. Then she came over and picked me up and kissed my cheek softly, and whispered in my ear that she was proud I managed to keep at it for that long. I feel asleep when she passed me to Daddy...

I woke up to the smell of dinner and Autumn's berries when it was dark outside. I could here Mother and Daddy yelling in the other room, along with my name. Autumn told me to stay in her room, though. Eventually they stopped. I think Mother won... They both came in and Mother gave me my sword with a warning about breaking things. Daddy did not seem to happy though. He had my guitar in his hand. He said he'd show me how to use it latter, but I was too tired to get excited.

I hope guitar is easier then swords...

Title: Re: Tyr'riel - Twists of Fate
Post by: RollinsCat on September 25, 2010, 02:42:54 pm

Originally posted by Shiffdrgnhrt:

"Tyr'riel, iream ilma aey anewila?" Mother spoke in Elvish again.
"E ils oela, Seaniram." I did not want to practice though. "Can't I-"
"Le, aey sylaan tymilnyanenya. E ils laemma."
That's what she always said. "Aala, Seaniram." At least then I could tell Autumn secrets. She liked talking to me in Elvish, even if I didn't always understand her. "Iream ilma aey anewila?"
* * *
Spending time with Autumn and Dad has been fun. Autumn and I have been hunting rabbits. I find it funny when I disappear on her and she gets scared. But I don't do it much. Especially since I've been sick. Autumn said she gets scared because I don't respond when she calls me, but I do. I come back. She then says, 'Why didn't you say anything?' but I don't need to say anything, do I? I know where I am. Doesn't she?

Dad on the other hand has been wanting me to sing but I just like to hum. I think it makes him sad. I don't feel like talking or singing. Especially if I don't have to. I tell them when I like something or when I see some thing bad or if I hurt. But I don't sing or talk. I don't ask many questions. I like to figure things out. Mother was surprised when she saw me sewing a doll together for Autumn out of my old clothes. She had no idea I knew how. But I watched Mother enough. It's just hard to thread that pointy needle.

Life's been quiet. I like that.

Title: Re: Tyr'riel - Twists of Fate
Post by: RollinsCat on September 27, 2010, 09:36:02 am

Guitar was easier than Mother's lessons, mostly because of Daddy.  The guitar itself wasn't easy - there were a lot of things Daddy had to teach him, chords, strings, letters that went with the strings, how and where to press his fingers and strum to make this sound, or that one.  How to write the little tadpoles that were the music letters; he wasn't very good at that, yet.

But Daddy taught very differently than Mother, and that made it easy.  Mother would make him do things over and over until he wanted to scream and cry, and then make him do it again. It's for you own good, Tyr'riel.  Someday this will save your life.  

Daddy would sit and talk, enough for both of them since he didn't feel like it much.  Daddy would put his fingers where they needed to go and help him strum.  Daddy would let him stop if he wanted a break, and let him decide when he was done.  Daddy showed him a place he could go for just himself; music.  There was never a time that he felt pushed or forced and he liked that, a lot.  

Mostly at first he'd just copy Daddy's sounds, and when Daddy was away in Lor he'd practice that, but one day when Daddy came home he was able to play a little song he'd made up.  He didn't know if it was any good; Autumn liked it, Mother didn't really say anything when he played it but he thought maybe she smiled.  

But Daddy.  Daddy asked him to play it again, and again, and then sat with him and played a backing melody.  It was the first time they'd played something together that he'd made up.  Daddy did make him sit down with the bar-paper book thing that Daddy had given him and write the song down in music language.  That took a long time and Daddy had to help a lot.

But when he was done he felt really, really proud.  As proud as if Mother had given him one of her rare but sincere compliments after practice.  And it was his.  He made it, he played it, he wrote it.

He would always remember that as a very good day.

Title: Re: Tyr'riel - Twists of Fate
Post by: ShiffDrgnhrt on October 20, 2010, 08:18:18 pm

//Tyr'riel is now 5 or 6.  Born some time in 1466.  This is for reference.

Title: There are many like it, but this one's mine... Part 1
Post by: ShiffDrgnhrt on October 22, 2010, 12:23:05 pm

Today was my birthday, or at least it felt like it was.  Daddy is usually the one who gives me fun things.  Mother just gives me stuff to wear.  Today though Mother gave me a sword...

This morning, Mother woke me up when it was still dark outside.  I was hoping it wasn't because she wanted me to go somewhere with her.  She always wakes me up like that when she wants me to go somewhere with her.  And of course she did.  She threw a leather coat on my head and told me to be at the door in ten minutes dressed or I'd be going naked.

Eleven minutes later Mother burst into the room was I was fighting with my boots.  They wouldn't go on!  I started crying, I didn't want to walk around naked.  She walked up to me, looking down from inside her hood.  That always scared me.  I never knew what she was going to do.  I closed my eyes, expecting some sort of punishment, when I felt my boot slip on and get tighter.  She was putting my boots on.  I opened my eyes to see her looking at me as if worried, her hood pushed back.  "Just ask me for help next time, okay?"  I felt a bit bad.  I forgot how Mother gets worried when I don't talk.  I just nodded and replied that I would next time, and put the coat on.  Mother took me on a boat after.  I'd never been on a boat before.  

A few weeks later...

I like boats.  They make my tummy feel funny.  Mother seemed fine, as always (though I thought she smelled like rotten eggs again).  There was lots of places to hide, but when someone found me they chased me until I found Mother.  "Keep that rat in his hole, woman, and out of my hold."  Mother just took me back to the little room by the hand.  There she would talk to me in Elf.  I was starting to like talking in Elf, even if I wasn't good at it.  Mother said she wasn't either, but she was better than me.  She said I was getting better though.  "Yer not confusing the past and future tense any more..."  I didn't know what that meant but it made me smile.  I asked her why she didn't teach me how to write in Elvish too, but she said she didn't know how.  I asked her about reading elvish but Mother said she didn't know how to do that either.  I didn't believe her though.  Mother always seemed to know everything.

Eventually we got off the boat.  Mother had taken me to another city, but this one did not look as nice as Leringard.  Mother called it Fort Vehl.  She also called it something else but I didn't understand it, but I bet it wasn't nice.  She told me to stay close to her, or some bad person may take me away and do bad things to me.  The way she looked at me was different than the way she does when she just wants me to do something.  She had her hand on something inside her cloak and it was even scarier than her 'death glare.'  I whined and asked for her to carry me, and she did.  She held me tight and pulled her cloak around me.  It was nice.  Mother didn't hold me much anymore.  She would always make sure I was playing and then go work on something.

She carried me through the city quickly, and no one seemed to notice.  Mother always spooked me with how quietly she walked.  Eventually we came to a big building.  She said it was a arena.  I didn't know what that was but when we went inside, I figured it out.  There were lots of people fighting each other inside.  They seemed like they wanted to hurt each other.  I asked Mother why and she said that that's how the world is.  There are people who want to hurt others and take their things just because they can or because they find it fun.  It sounded mean.  I asked her why she doesn't beat them up cause they're bad.  She just looked at me for a while.  "There is only one of me, and many of them.  You have to take out the big ones first, and the little ones will run away."

Later we went to a small room.  It had a wooden person in it, and lots of shiny metal things Mother called 'weapons.'  She told me these were like the wooden sword I have at home, but these ones are real, and can hurt people.  She then just sat down, and looked at me.  When I glanced at the shiny weapons she said, "See anything you like?"  There were lots.  Some long, some small.  Most were pointy, a few were curved or round.  I saw one that looked like Mother's, and one that looked like Dad's.  I even saw one that looked like Grampa's...  But which one would be mine...

Title: Re: Tyr'riel - Twists of Fate
Post by: RollinsCat on October 22, 2010, 02:00:07 pm

The rapiers were light - easy to pick up, easy to swing.  Like Dad's and oji-Reid's.  He looked at the three hanging in a weapon rack.  None looked exactly like Dad's, with the woven metal basket that completely covered the hand.  Mother called them skinny poking sticks, always with a smirk, when she saw Dad practice.  He passed them by.

There were short swords, like Mother's.  He glanced over to her once as he stood in front of the short, slim blades hung in a neat row; she was smiling and her eyes glittered under her hood.  He knew these the best because he practiced with a little wooden one.  These were all copper or iron and pretty plain.  He kept looking.

The greatswords, like Grandpa Dragonheart's.  Too big for him to hold and really heavy.  Grandpa would be proud, if he chose that - but they were really, really heavy and didn't let you use your other hand for anything else.  He almost touched one with scrollwork on the hilt but Mother shifted pointedly where she sat.  He withdrew his hand and moved to the other wall.

Longer swords, somewhere between short and great, at least seven he could count and each a little different.  The edges gleamed with oil and they looked pretty neat.  But long, and hard to use with one hand, at least they seemed that way.

There were other weapons hanging on that wall, whips and really big poles with blades on the end; axes from little to big, but he had no interest in them.   Some clubs with knobby heads but he thought clubs were for orcs.  He moved on.

Finally - hanging in pair on the wall behind the door - two swords, differing only in length, blades curved with only one edge sharp.  Dad had taught him about these when giving him history lessons about the islands.  They were popular on Corsain (Dad taught him at lot about Corsain, which was weird, because they were from Huangjin, weren't they?  But Dad would smile and say that it would be important to him someday, and change the subject).  

Huangjin sabres.  That's what they was called.  The longer one was too long, but the shorter one looked just right.  He walked up, studied the metal and the cloth-and-leather hilt with the patterned grip, felt Mother's eyes on him.  

He turned and took in the room again, each weapon, each sword, in silence.  The sabre shone in the corner of his vision.  He could use it one-handed...it would make both of his parents happy...and it was just pretty neat looking, different.  Maybe it would be hard to learn with only one side sharp but then he'd have a way to strike without hurting if he wanted.

"That one."  One finger went almost imperiously to the sabre.

"Are you sure?  That's not easy to learn and we'll have to find you a tutor to learn two - "

"Just one, Mother.  Please."  She frowned at that, but his small face was set not in stubborn petulance but in calm determination.  She stood and pulled the sword off the wall in one fluid move.

"Happy birthday, son."

Title: Respect
Post by: ShiffDrgnhrt on October 27, 2010, 02:40:58 pm

A lonely bronze helmet sat as a silent observer to the next session of the boy's training...

"Do it again..."  Tyra stood with arms crossed watching her son perform a series of techniques.  She paid close attention to his foot work today.  She was impressed.  "You have been practicing."  The boy smiled, then shook his head in the negative.  Tyra became displeased.  "You should have been, then.  So you will do this five more times."  The frown on the boys face was momentary, before it shifted to a focus.  As Tyra expected, the boy's performance did not stand up to repeated attempts.

Hours later, Tyra and Tyr'riel sat across from each other.  "Why have you not been practicing like I ask?"
"It's easy."  The boy had an uncommon confidence, which Tyra knew would help him, but she was afraid it would become arrogance.
"Son, I know some of this comes easy, but you should not, must not let it get to your head."
"Why?"
"Because you can not earn the respect of your peers if you assume you are better than them."
"Why?"
"Because no one is -better- than anyone else.  Some people just have different skill sets.  And there is always someone -better- than you."
"Okay."  The boy just nodded.  Whether he understood was unclear.
"Tyr'riel, do you know what respect is?"  He shook his head.  "Respect is what allows people who are different to work together.  Like Gurnorhn and I.  We are very different but I respect him as a Servant of Grannoch and as a person.  We have helped each other and by doing so have a relationship where I trust him with my Tower, and he trusts me to help him when needed."
Tyr'riel just looked at her and blinked.
Tyra sighed.  "Do you know why you listen to me and not your father?"  She recieved a head shake in response.  "You respect me because you know that when I tell you to do something, if you do not you will not like what happens, but that when you do you know I make things easier.  Like if you practice when I tell you, I won't make you do things even more when we train."  Tyr'riel blinked again, but this time as if she were speaking gnomish.
Tyra rubbed her face.  "Why don't you listen to your father?"
The boy shrugged.  "I listen."
"But how many times must he ask you to do something?"
"I practice guitar without him asking."
Tyra closed her eyes to hold in a flicker of anger and frustration.  "But you argue when he wants you to go to bed."
"Cause I want to play guitar more."
Tyra's teeth clenched.  "I'm sure he is happy about that, but that is not the point.  When you are told to do something by someone you should respect, you should do what they ask."
"You don't do what Daddy asks you to do."
Tyra might have preferred it if he stabbed her with his sword.  "Tyr'riel, I..."  She paused, looking at her son.  "Your Father and I have different ideas on how to best raise and care for you, and unfortunately we argue about it in front of you some times.  Mothers and Fathers do this.  But we do it so that things turn out the best for you."
"Why didn't Bella listen to you?"
Tyra sighed in defeat.  "Maybe I'm not the best person to talk to you about this."
"Why?"
"Because... because I'm not the best person to talk about respect with."
"Why?"
"Because I haven't earned that much and I give out almost as little."
"Why?"
"Ask your father..."
"Why-"
"Enough."  The boy fell silent.  "Tyr'riel if you want respect just remember this: Follow through with anything you say you will do, and do not disrespect others.  That's all I can offer you on the subject."
They then stood together and collected their things.
"I respect you, Mother."
"Do you?  Or are you just afraid of me?"

Title: U is for Ukulele
Post by: ShiffDrgnhrt on November 10, 2010, 06:00:59 pm

Mariner's Hold was much busier than he expected.  And looked much newer than Fort Vehl.  He asked Mother why, but she offered no explanation.  She just said, "This city is not a mess like Fort Vehl."

Autumn tagged along this time.  On the ride over she played hide and seek with Tyr'riel, as Mother walked stood at the bow of the ship like a mast.  She even told him an old Co'rysian fable in Elvish.  It didn't bother him that it was about a greedy human getting his due via being squashed by a tree after trying to rob Dapplegreen village.  He thought the human deserved it, but he did not say that to Autumn.  He just said, "Anirilln aey oem anira laanema."  Autumn was happy to share.

When they got there, Tyr'riel staggered out of the hold behind Autumn and Mother, his legs too used to a rocking ship to walk on solid ground.  Mother hardly seemed bothered by the trip, which made him try hard to look like it did not bother him either.  He wanted to follow after Mother but she told him to stay with Autumn.  "She's going to take you shopping."  Tyr'riel just nodded, but when Autumn reminded him about the Ukulele he wanted to get his father he pulled Autumn off in some direction i hopes of finding one.  Autumn giggled at his eagerness.

Title: Re: Tyr'riel - Twists of Fate
Post by: RollinsCat on November 29, 2010, 11:59:31 am

The inn is huge.  Most of it is off-limits now because workers and construction are everywhere, but he got to run the whole thing before that started.

He sleeps in a safe room next to where Daddy and Elly sleep, when he's there.  Daddy continues to teach reading and writing and numbers.  Well, since he's been back from wherever he was.  He looks skinny and kind of bad though and Ty worries.  Daddies aren't supposed to get sick.  Elly is feeding him, lots, and fussing over him.  He seems to like it.

As for Ty, he practices with his sword, and plays his guitar, and has found every single hiding spot there is in the big old inn.  The upstairs, which was sealed off because it was never "finished" whatever that means, has been opened and the dwarves cut a real big hole in the ceiling.  They grumbled about it, said it wasn't right to seal off perfectly good underground rooms so you could live up with the bats, but Daddy insisted.

Elly teaches him some cooking and is a good person to talk to.  He loves her now the same as his mom and dad, but he gets to call her Elly and ask her stuff he can't ask his parents.  She keeps his secrets with a little smile that he thinks is just for him.

Overall things are good, even if Mother and Daddy are gone too often, but Daddy is home since they're working in the tavern now.  Things are good even if he's not allowed to use the paintings Daddy is buying for the Inn as targets for his sword practice.  Well, anymore, that is...

Title: Re: Tyr'riel - Twists of Fate
Post by: RollinsCat on December 19, 2010, 09:40:10 pm

Grandpa was talking to the guards.  Ty was supposed to stay down but he wanted to see what was going on so he peeked from around the water barrels, hoping to see draks or whatever they were, or dragons, or something neat.  All he saw was lots of people moving supplies and in the distance a town wall.  Boring.

What he didn't see where many kids, it was all adults running around.  Such a long trip to look at a wall and no one to play with?  And he'd had to listen to Grandpa's stories over and over on the way here, even the ones he'd already heard.  He stood up to look for his father or mother - Grandpa had said his father might be here - but there was no black-haired head sticking out over the crowd.  Just strangers, some calm, some agitated, some frantic over specific people locked inside the gates.  He didn't see his Mother either, or at least no one wearing black leathers who walked like she did.  

"What're you doin' here, sweetie?  This's no place for a child!"  A thick-built woman in a blue kerchief and apron stopped her hustled pace by the wagon.  Her face softened at his glance.  "Family inside, dear?"

"Uh - yeah."  It was all he could get out.  He felt shy and wanted to sink down in between the barrels but that would be rude and his father had taught him not to be rude, so he answered and hoped she'd go away.

"Oh, honey, I'm so sorry.  Not yer mum I hope?"  He opened his mouth to fib but she went on. "Don't you worry, those ladies inside from Aeridin's temples, they'll figure it out.  She'll be fine."  The woman's voice had the ring of placating adult to it that made his gut tighten. "Now you stay with that wagon, don't go close, even for yer mum, dear.  You don't want to catch it!"  With a pitying look she moved on and he studied the gates.

Something catching.  A sick.  And Elly was in there, which made him feel very bad.  He knew Dad was worried about her, and Michael and Edward and Heloise and Paddy were too.  He thought about sneaking up to see if he could talk to her but it didn't seem like a good idea if there was a sick going around.  But if he could talk to her and let Dad know she was alright...he snuck really good now, no one would see, Paddy had been teaching him.  He started to jump off the wagon but four guards turned and walked in his direction so he ducked down, not wanting to answer any more questions, and thought about his latest teacher.

Paddy had been showing him neat things like moving quietly in the city and inn.  Autumn taught him woods stuff which was hard in it's own way but to be sneaky along a stone wall was a whole new challenge.  Paddy played "can't see me" games like Autumn did but around the Hold when they went shopping instead of during hikes.  Paddy also taught him how to make keys, which he wondered about until Paddy said it was because you never know when you need to unlock a door to help someone.  He'd also taught Ty some lock-picking using old inn doors Dad was replacing and some chests Paddy had.  Ty had thought that maybe Paddy was kind of not trustworthy after that, but he seemed to like Dad and was as excited as the rest about the new changes coming.  He'd even argued for more security beyond the warding and Dad had smiled and taken his advice.  So Ty guessed that he was okay, even if he was always teasing Heloise by putting little things in the pockets of clothes she was wearing.  She never caught him, his hands were so fast, until later when she'd reach in for her comb and take out some almonds instead.  She acted mad but Ty thought she kind of liked it because she would smile when she didn't think she was being watched and snack on the nuts.  And Paddy was a good teacher even if he'd said not to tell because really useful skills make some people nervous even when it's for good reasons.

The guards passed him by and he moved to jump down again until he heard the clump-chunk of clawed boots.  Grandpa returned with guards to help unload the water, then put him on the front seat and turned the wagon around to head back for more.  Ty was irritated.  He'd never had a chance to talk to Elly and he wanted to tell Dad she was alright.  He was prepared to be in a funk, working up a good head of steam, until -  "You wanna drive, boy?" His mood evaporated and he nodded with wide eyes. "Here you go, take the reins like this - just like that...leave 'em loose enough to hang some but not too loose...right..."

Title: Re: Tyr'riel - Twists of Fate
Post by: ShiffDrgnhrt on January 04, 2011, 04:39:41 pm

Tyr'riel had been grounded by Dad when he got home from his trip with Grampa.  Or maybe it was Grampa who was grounded.  Dad was very mad, threatening to tell Tyra and Gramma about their trip to Hlint, which put Shiff on the losing side.  Dad told Grampa he couldn't watch Tyr'riel anymore, which made him sad.  Tyr'riel liked spending time with his Grampa.  He would let him do things Mother and Dad would not allow him to.  Tyr'riel could tell Grampa was sad too.  He hugged his Grampa tight when he was asked to leave.
"Now Tyr'riel, ya be a good kid fer yer paw now, a'ight?  I love ya, lil man."
Tyr'riel nodded, "I love you too, Grampa."  He hed out his fist to his Grampa, who punched it gently, bringing a smile to the boys face.

The next few weeks had Tyr'riel in his Dad's company almost always.  Dad had asked Autumn for some Elvish script for Tyr'riel to practice.  Tyr'riel was not thrilled about the prospect of having home work, but Autumn said that it would make her and his Mother happy if he could read and write Elvish, instead of just speak it like Mother did.  This made him more then happy to practice the intricate script of elvish.

At least until he started.  His hand hurt quite mightly after the first day.  Unlike the blocky, segmented script of the common language, Elvish script was fluid and connected.  What on the first day passed very quickly, turned into a slow march across pages.  What was minutes became hours as he scrawled.

When Mother came home, Dad told him what Grampa did, and she nearly lost it.  From his room in the Tower, he could hear her scream his name.  His full name, which was never something he wanted to hear.  He ran down stairs like a bolt of lightning, to be interrogated in Elvish.

Title: Re: Tyr'riel - Twists of Fate
Post by: ShiffDrgnhrt on January 05, 2011, 07:56:58 pm

"Tyr'riel..."
"Tyr'riel, wake up..."
"TYR'RIEL!"

The boy woke up with a start, with his mother standing over his bed dressed in adamantium.  "Get up and out of bed.  Pack some clothes and come with me, now."  the boys protests were cut off before they even began.  "Do it without questions!"

Dad came in behind her.  "Tyra what the-"  Mother showed him a bulletin, but Tyr'riel did not get to see what it said.  Dad's face went white, which was scary considering his heritage.  "What...  How..."  Mother just turned back to Tyr'riel.  "Let's go."

"Tyra where are you taking him!?"  Dad chased them down the Tower, Tyr'riel in his mother's arms.  "You can't just-"

"Can't what?!  Wait for someone to take him so they can turn our heads in for Kuhl's gold?!  NEVER!"  Mother threw her cloak over his back.  Tyr'riel was scared now, because his mother was scared.  And if his mother was scared, Tyr'riel was about to become terrified.  She carried him out of the Tower with Dad behind, grabbing his sword and leaving his lute.  Where he would end up...  He didn't know.

Title: Re: Tyr'riel - Twists of Fate
Post by: RollinsCat on January 11, 2011, 12:06:28 am

Sun climbed up the walls of the stucco room and warmed his lids; he woke.  He was not in "his" room, although he was used to "not his room".  He shared his mother's room in the tower, something Dad was increasingly insistent he not do.  He had his own room at the Buckle, and a room at the Twin Dragons -- each place was home and a half a dozen others over the years.  So waking up on a futon in a whitewashed room full of plants wasn't strange.  It wasn't that.

Everyone else was already up, of course.  He figured out last week that they thought him a little lazy for sleeping so late but revery was different than sleep and he needed more than meditation to feel right.  A comment from Vmillwoilaniram, heavily accented, about his appearance.  Looks from the other children.  A tiny hrmph from Vmillwseaniram.  All of it he was getting used to even if it made him feel weird.  It wasn't really that.

He had breakfast alone, cleaned his dishes, and wandered outside.  The other children were in lessons with their anailnyiram but his were done separately since his language skills were so -- what was the word they said?  Tainted?  Something.

Outside people were going about the day as they had since before sun-up.  Vendors, tradesmen (trades-elves?), bakers, leather workers, tailors, hunters, entertainers.  All the things in a town that made it go.  One then another would look at him, with his exotically slanted eyes set in his plain, lightly scarred human face, and glance away as if they'd witnessed an argument between strangers.  No one said hello.  No one nodded.  

That was it.  People were not friendly to him.  He didn't know the rules on how to be friendly to them, and when he spoke elven the way Mother had taught him they looked at best shocked, at worst horrified.  He thought maybe if they knew Elly was kind of a mom to him it would be better, but it didn't make up for his human-ness.  People here talked differently, walked differently; the children were much smaller than he was, even the ones who were his "equivalent" age or whatever, and seemed a lot more grown-up even as kids.  They didn't play games the way he knew and were always learning something or another.  They didn't look like him.  They didn't even sweat like him; they didn't sweat much at all or even have a smell.  He always felt dirty.

Well -- maybe he wasn't being totally fair.  Clarisse was nice sometimes.  But she didn't like to talk about her mother and really really didn't want to hear about his father and her mother.  That was okay.  He understood a lot better about that now.  Auhry he didn't see much and the boy didn't talk to him when they did cross paths.  Coreth was okay, though, he didn't seem to mind talking about Elly and his dad, about what Dad was like and things Elly was doing.  He was also willing to go for walks and stuff.  He was alright.  

Vmillwoilaniram and Vmillwseaniram, on the other hand, weren't quite sure what to do with him.  They were watching three already and one more -- especially a human who wasn't even related to the mother of the ones they had -- well, he thought maybe they were a little mad about it.  Coreth said they were more mad that Mother and Dad had just come and asked, out of the blue, that it was not the way things were done.

A pinching in his heart when his parents crossed his mind, for more reasons than he would let himself admit, and he stopped wandering and turned west.  He headed to the forest, which wasn't hard because it was pretty much right there -- the village was built into it, rather than around it or beside it.  He only had to walk a quarter mile and there were no more houses on the ground and he was alone.  Really alone, not just ignored.  A stream ran down the western side of the forest-village and he followed it, picking up a long stick and leaving a wake in the water where the tip dragged along.  He walked the way Autumn had taught him, the way that made his feet "mossy" as she'd put it.  Quiet, muffled, one with the grass.  A log loomed ahead from an ancient tree finally given up to lightening, listing on its side and hollow inside from many centuries of hosting insects and animals.  He broke into a run and jumped in, rolling across cool, damp wood.  This was his place.  His refuge.

A constriction in his heart again.  A conversation replayed, as it had been many times in the last weeks.  His fist curled as anger clashed with the need for a hug although he knew he'd never allow one even if either of his parents were there.

Except they weren't, and Dad wasn't Dad and Mother wasn't Mother.  Sometimes people had noted it odd he looked so much like his Dad and he thought that was weird.  Why wouldn't he?  Mother and Dad hadn't stayed together but they'd raised him and he had always believed, every time he saw his reflection next to his father's, that he was their child.


"But what does it MEAN?  I mean I know it means that you get a baby somewhere else but what does it mean about me?  Is it because you and Mother aren't married?"

"Who told you that."

"What does it mean, Dad?  Come on."

"Who told you?"

He wanted to kick something.  "It doesn't matter!  I just want to know why they said I was adopted!"

His father let out a long breath, sat back and hummed to himself.  Ty knew to leave him alone for a moment but he still wanted to kick something and he wanted to shake his father hard.  He counted to twenty, backwards, in elven.  A little trick Autumn had taught him.

His father stood, head brushing the top of the small cabin.  Walked three short steps and knelt so they were almost eye-to-eye.  His expression was neutral and Ty's heart contracted.  He knew that look and knew he wasn't going to want to hear what he was going to hear.

"Tyr'riel."  His father breathed the name as if it would conjure a spell.  "This is not how or when I wanted you to know, but -- you are adopted.  You are not from your mother's body or from mine."  

He couldn't speak right away, his head hurt with questions suddenly fighting for access to his tongue.  He couldn't pick just one.  There was a moment of distraction when a sound tickled his ears, turning him from his building anger, but he knew what it was and right now he didn't want it.  "SHUT UP!"  His father's face drew tight but the humming stopped.  "Don't.  Don't sing."  He wanted to say more and couldn't.  He wanted to cry and couldn't.  He started to breathe harder.  "Why didn't you tell me before?  Why did you lie?"

"Ty, we never lied -- "

"YES YOU DID!  You lied because you didn't tell me!"

"TY.  Listen to me.  Now."  That voice he could not ignore.  His father used it seldom - 'command voice'.  He was breathing hard, staring at the man who just moments before had been his father.  "Nothing has changed, Tyr'riel.  Nothing is different -- you are you, and I am I, and your mother is your mother.  We didn't give birth to you - well, she didn't, anyway -- but we raise you, love you, and care for you.  Nothing at all has changed."  

He was wrong.  Everything changed.  There was another mother and father out there, maybe sisters and brothers, grandparents and nieces and nephews.  A whole family he didn't know.  Everything was different even though it was the same.

It took him a long time to ask the question.  To form it on his lips and make the words come out and when they did, it was a whisper, not the bold interrogation he'd intended.  "Who are my real parents?"

His father winced at the words.  "We don't know.  Your mother was on Corsain for business and found you by a man and woman -- they were dead, attacked by someone she did not see, and you were alive but abandoned.  This was miles from any town and there was no way to know where you came from.  She took you to protect you and ended up caring for you."  A long pause.  He did not interrupt.  "When she brought you back to Mistone, she asked me to be your father so you would have a man in your life to learn from.  Your mother has never married or had children and neither have I although...this sounds trite but we both have been blessed to have you."  His dad started to reach out for him.  He stepped back even though he desperately wanted not to.

"Why didn't Mother leave me with a village near where my..." He choked for a moment.  "Where my parents were?  Someone would have found out, someone..."

"Ty.  You were alone and left to die.  Your mother took you because she did not want to leave you in an orphanage."

"Like the one she's trying to start now that keeps her away all the time.  The one more important than me."  He sounded just like her -- the sarcasm, the tone.  There was a long silence after that.  His father stood.

"We'll be docking soon.  Get your things ready."  He said very little more until it was time for goodbyes.  Ty said nothing more.  Mother noticed the silence but was too busy translating to ask about it.  They traveled to the house with Elly's kids, Dad said goodbye, he loved him, they would be back as soon as they could and they would write, all that stuff.  He didn't hug his father and he only hugged Mother because she didn't give him a choice.  Then they were gone.


And the next morning he woke in a small white room.  Alone.

Title: Re: Tyr'riel - Twists of Fate
Post by: RollinsCat on February 01, 2011, 12:26:19 pm

He wrings it in his hands, the letter, and the paper crumples under his palms.

It feels wrong.  Anger etches his heart, butterfly wings rimmed in fire.

It's not just them anymore.  Clarisse says it's him now.  She says to let it go, that parents have to do what is best for their kids even if it's not what the kids want and even if it hurts.  Regurgitated wisdom.  He remembers staring at her for a long time after she said that.  He remembers the look on her face and how quiet she got.  How they both escaped to their places of hiding after.

He takes a breath in the same way his father does.  Long, slow, deep.  Eyes half closed.  He flattens the paper and reads.  The butterfly traces a burning path across the throne of his love and pain and he tries, he tries, to forgive.



Ty, my son.

I miss you.  

I wanted to be a lot more eloquent but that is what it boils down to.  I miss you.  I received your letter and it brought us much joy; I shared it with Heloise and Paddy, Edward, Michael, Minu, and of course your mother.  But I kept it and have it still.  

It's a talisman now.  Something I read to remind myself why I sent you away and why I closed the doors to our home and why I'm not utterly horrified when I hear of this enemy of my faith or that enemy of my adopted city joining our fight.  The Cult has taken Sundance and advanced into Hilm.  They have declared anyone who stands against them an Enemy and have the troops to take the entire continent of Belinara, Muse alone knows where they got them all.  I will stay and see Hlint cured, see Minu help to cure the dying around her and see this fight to the end.

Bold words from an ex-drunk musician.  And for you, a sentence to stay where you are.  I felt your unhappiness in your letter, Tyr'riel.  I know where you are you do not fit in.  But you are safe.  And we need you to be safe.  Because you are something that can be used against us.  Because you are not yet grown.  Because we don't want you to die; of all the reasons, that most of all.  I am not strong enough to live without you.  I've done enough - I will not allow your life to hang on my balance, not when you have lived so little of it.

Someday you might understand this.  Someday there may be someone you need to keep safe; someone you need to know is as outside the reach of evil as they can be.  Some long day from now, you may even be protecting me.  Life has a funny way of turning things around.  Ask your grandparents.

I had a lot more that sounded like pablum after I wrote it.  I'll keep this simple then; everyone is still alive and misses you more than you can know.  Minu sends her love, to you and to her children; she asks that you tell them how much she loves them.  I miss you and I love you, son.

Stay safe.  Keep practicing your rapier.  Paddy has a separate note which I included and no, I didn't read it.

Love,


Your father


Paddy's note is in his pocket.  Reading the letter again makes the butterfly land; burning little feet but stilled, quiet.  Taking out Paddy's note makes him smile.  It is on cheap parchment and half of it is only visible when he holds the paper to sunlight.



hey kid

find some pins an set them up and nock them down.  you now what I mean.  open a few doors an if yore skared remember that oppertunite never nocks you have to look for it.
Hellie says she miss's you an to be good.  do what yore dad told you put bells on an walk.  keep yore eyes opin an yore mowth shut an you will be ok.

Paddy


Clairsse is calling for him.  She knows he's somewhere around here.  Maybe he'll show her the tree if she promises not to tell.

It's suppertime.  He folds the letter and the note and puts them in a pocket.

A talisman.

Title: Re: Tyr'riel - Twists of Fate
Post by: RollinsCat on February 18, 2011, 03:39:13 pm

Thuppp...  Something brushed his face and he ran a hand over his nose - spider, maybe, or a big leaf.  Nothing moved down his cheek and tried to scamper away.  He rolled and a creamy yellow bundle slid to the floor.  A letter from his father; he recognized the handwriting even before he picked it up.  He could just hear a faint flapping as the messenger bird winged away.

Opened, it wasn't a letter even though the paper was cut long.  It was a picture, on the top quarter of the page, of a boy reclined on a grassy spot reading a letter in the sun...with a picture of a boy drawn on the picture of the letter...he squinted and could see a faint picture-blob on the letter in the second drawing.  He had to smile.  The boy was him. Well - him, a few years ago.  An image of the boy he'd been, the last time his father had seen him - forever eight years old in his father's mind.  The feeling of a curtain closing over his heart was a familiar one.  He wondered what his parents looked like now.  It seemed to him that they would look the same.  They didn't change as much as he did.  He was losing hope he'd ever see them again.

Examining the paper led to no new discoveries except that it had been opened before he got it and that irritated him.  Who would look through his mail?  He wasn't anyone important.  The picture was tossed onto an untidy pile on his desk.  He had lounged long enough.  He had rapier practice soon.

.......................................

Two months, elf months which were longer than human ones or at least it seemed that way, and the pile grew with schooling and written elvish lessons and notes to girls (but never to the one he really liked, because he was sure she'd only laugh at his silly human self).  He meant to clean it but something always got in the way.  He had a rhythm now; rapier and fighting lessons, elvish lessons, writing lessons; apprenticing to his grandfather's friend the alchemist in the evenings.  In between all that, sneaking about, or practicing on the locks he had stashed away, or putting things in coat pockets full of bells and trying to take them out without making any noise.  Not much time to play anymore.  Not much time to read, and blissfully not much time to think about his mother and father.

The letter was still there, wrinkled, one corner sacrificed to necessity a while back.  He looked at it again and felt the same squeeze around his heart.  Who were they now?  Where were they now?  The young boy lay so contentedly in the sun.  When was the last time he'd hidden in his tree trunk and basked in the molten gold light that would flood through the big knothole in the top?

Sun.  Reading in the sun.  An idle scratch behind his ear as he took the letter out to the sun porch and held it up.  The letters took a few minutes to appear and he was surprised by how unsurprised he felt.


Ty

You're not the only one Paddy tells secrets to.  Your mother wanted me to pass on a letter and I felt that it would be better sent with some security.  I've reproduced it below verbatim.

I miss you, Tyr'riel.  Your mother does too.  Read on and know you are in our thoughts daily.

And write me a letter, are your arms broken?


Dad


Below was his father's handwriting - but he could hear his mother's voice in the words.


Dear Son,

I hope life in the village is not too rough. You should get plenty of experience speaking proper Elvish there, but I hope the attitude of the elves you meet is not too harsh. Where you are has never been a place for anyone not an Elf.

I am sorry we sent you there, but at the moment it is the safest place for you. It is well protected, and by more than just Elves.

I think about you often. I miss coming back from projects to see you waiting for me.

I hope you may like to know that the orphanage project is well under way, and two buildings have been bought and are being prepared. I am hoping once everything is done I will be able to stay home and run the orphanage, and if the war goes well, maybe retire from adventuring. I'd love to have you there working with me.

How are things? I'm sorry I haven't sent you a letter sooner. I've been busy.

I love you,
Your Mother


A smile at first, then a bitter twist.  Orphanages.  Which he should have ended up in.  He wondered how long before his mother found another child to take up her time.  They'd just leave him here.

He tore the letter once, straight down, before changing his mind and stuffing it in a drawer.  Love was all well and good but love needed closeness.  He didn't know these people anymore.

He hurt another combatant, later, so physical and uncontrolled was his bladework during practice.

Title: Re: Tyr'riel - Twists of Fate
Post by: RollinsCat on March 20, 2011, 11:43:44 pm

"Elama veew.  Aey sila leam malaan."  Tyr'riel's fencing master bowed, and he returned it, lower and held longer out of respect.  And odd bit of Tilmar on this elven island and it always made him wonder.

"Anirilln aey, Sillaanam.  Ean ela ill irelem ane cailml."  The old elf nodded at his pupil's rote response and hung his practice rapier precisely on the wall.  Stepping from the fencing room, he was gone without another word.  

Ty rolled aching shoulders, did cool-down stretches.  He had earned a compliment today in and among all the taps and corrections, and it felt good.  Really good.  For a while, through lunch and writing lessons with Clarisse and into early evening, it sustained him, rehashing that single hard-earned mention of his growing skill.  Clarisse had laughed, said that his master had only one jar of compliments to last his entire elven lifetime and when they were gone, they were gone; it was why the man was so miserly with them, didn't Ty know that?

He didn't mind the teasing.  He didn't mind anything Clarisse did.  His heart felt a little funny when he thought that.

It ran out, though.  The glow faded with sun's light, with Clarisse's smiling goodnight, and the rest of the family's bedding down.  He had begun to hate nighttime.  

He flipped.  He flopped.  The futon was lumpy.  The sheets were too cool, then too hot.  The night birds were noisy, the shutters were loose, and there was a cricket in his room.  Okay, that wasn't a bad thing - crickets were lucky, Oba Reid had told him once.

Staring at the ceiling wasn't helping.  He wanted to talk to Clarisse but she wouldn't like being pulled from revery so he could complain.  Complain about what?  The wind, the birds, his mattress?

His loneliness?

He missed them.

He missed them a lot.  He had started playing his guitar again, then stopped when he'd nearly burst out crying for what looked like no reason.  But he knew the reason.  Even when he tried not to.  He missed his folks.  He could remember his mother's hooded coat, her black leathers and the smell of them mixed with the oil she used on her swords.  He remembered his dad's black hair, the red coats he always wore, his singing, and always having to look far up to see his face.  He sort of remembered the face.  

But it was fading, reduced to neat italic script on cream-colored parchment.  Dad usually sent a letter every few weeks, mostly about mundane stuff, but he'd heard nothing for almost two months now.  Mother hardly sent any at all.  He didn't want to forget them.  He didn't want to never see them again.  He didn't want to be forgotten.

A fist curled, the nails cutting white lines in his tanned skin.  Big boys don't cry.  Big boys don't cry.  Bigboysdon'tcry...don't cry...

Morning brought rain, more wind, and after breakfast a letter with some purple smudges on it.  He'd taken to opening them around Clarisse, she was interested in things that happened elsewhere and was always interested in his father's letters.  The parchment was thick and blinding white.  He ran a knife under the seal...Aeridin's seal?...and unfolded the notepaper inside.


My Dearest Ty'riel,

I am so very sorry that I have been unable to write until now. Please know that I love you with all my heart and I miss you so very much.

Had I been able to write sooner, I would have but I have been so very sick that I have not been able to. Please let this letter ease your mind that I am fighting and winning against this illness, and that as soon as I am able to return home, that we will call you home with us.

Please also give my love to Clarisse, Coreth, Nemo and Auhry. Hearing your messages through your father, gives me strength and hope to fight this all the more! I miss you all and it makes my heart ache to have you so far away.

I pray that his Healing light will help you to be each others strength until we can bring you home again. Your father and I are working so very hard to bring you home. Please pray for us, and keep hope and home alive in your heart.

May Love and Hope shine in your heart like a beacon guiding you home to us. Remember we are always with you and we love you unceasingly.

~Elly


His lips moved but the rest of him was frozen.  He read it three times, and each time, a little peg was hammered closer, closer...

Clarisse saw his expression and snatched the letter out of his frozen hand, eyes wide.  The twist of fear at his reaction churned to something between pain and love, and her tears started falling at the same time as his.  There was no sense of time as they sniffled and fought for control; two statues, together yet locked inside their sculptors legacy.  His heart ached enough for it to be night, hers enough that she could not stop the tears; her mother was alive...and wanted Ty, not her.  No, that wasn't fair, but...no.

It wasn't going to be that way.  She looked at the young man across from her, this dark-haired human boy-child who was in the middle of shooting up like a wild vine, already muscular and taller than her, and when she spoke he didn't dare challenge.

"E wel'an amillan ane quylaan mailw ilfeyan anira amemcw illasema, Ana.  She knuckled tears and flashed a defiant look to the air around the room.  "When they come, I go with you."

Title: Tyr'riel
Post by: ShiffDrgnhrt on March 21, 2011, 12:29:55 am

The next morning began in an unusual way.  In his time there, he had gotten to know the elven family who had been fostering him while his 'parents' were 'saving the world.'  But one of them was not Elven, and that one was Nemo.

"Good Morning Tear-E-EL!"  She always emphasized his name that way.  "Why are you sleeping?"  The crust had not even been brushed from his eyes when the boy sat up on his futon.  The woman in the door way seemed age less, in that elven sort of way.  Her face had not a wrinkle of age, despite hearing from Clarisse that she was even older than Auhry.  But unlike the grace that seemed to define the agelessness of elves, Nemo was....  creepy.  She was always smiling a Cheshire smile, and her teeth were pointed...  Her eyes were like a cats, and he swore there was something weird about her hair, as if something was hiding in it.  The thing that was strangest, but earned a giggle from the other children on occassion, was the fact she spoke in the third person.  Always.

"Good morning, Nemo."  She didn't understand Elvish, despite having been living with elves for years.  Vmillwseaniram and Vmillwoilaniram seemed to treat her with a mild neglect, making sure she had food and drink, clean clothes and a place to live, but did not speak to her unless she was about to break something.  And for Nemo, breaking things was the most fun thing you could do.

"Is that your guitar?  Can Nemo play?"  She didn't wait for a response, and Tyr'riel was too tired still to react in time.  Before her movement registered, she was strumming it...  with a knife.  "It sounds broken.  Can Nemo fix -"

"No!  Nemo, please put down. . .  my guitar..."  The hollow thunk that followed told him she dropped it.  Thank you Dad for making it from Mahogany...  Next on her list though was his wakizashi.  She started swing it around and as he sighed, she stabbed it into the wall and left it there.

"Nemo telling Daddy.  You are being a Meaner by not sharing."  She giggled and stuck out her tongue, and disappeared through the door, only to peak back in and say.  "Oh, Nemo has a letter from your Mommy.  But you can't have it.  Cause yer a meaner!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tyr'riel had chased through the market of the village he had been living in, down Carpenter's Street, across Forge Lane, and even into the pawn shop before he cornered Nemo.

"Give it to me!"  He shouted, waving his wakizashi at the bizarre woman-child.

"Nopers!  Nemo keeps cause yer a meaner!"  She held it behind her back, looking some thing like a defiant four year old, despite being several feet taller and much...  rounder.

"Give it to me, Nemo!"

"Nopers!  "Yer a mean-"  

"SILENCE!"

Tyr'riel winced at the sound of an old Elven Sorcerer.  He turned slowly, adopting a submissive posture as the Elderly Elf came into view, holding a impressive looking yew staff, etched with innumerable runes and topped with an luminous blue crystal.  His robed were long, faded blue in color,  and caked with dust with stains in places from scribe's ink and other magical components.  The elf just stared through Tyr'riel, who did not say a word.

Nemo, on the other hand, did what she did best:  get in trouble.  "Oh!  That's shiny!"  She dropped the letter as if it were nothing and started waddling wide-eyed toward the mage.  The mage just shook his head, and with a flick of his wrist, Nemo ended up falling on her face, sleeping like a baby.  Tyr'riel secretly wished he could do that.

 Vmillwseaniram and Vmillwoilaniram came running in shortly after, saying many hurried apologies for Nemo and Tyr'riel.  Tyr'riel took the change in attention to snatch the letter, before glaring at Nemo's peaceful, if subdued body.  Meaner, no one takes my letters but Clarisse...

The walk home was not enjoyable, especially since Vmillwseaniram and Vmillwoilaniram made him drag Nemo home on a stretcher summoned by the mage.  Even when asleep, she was annoying.  But inside he smiled.  Tucked under his tunic, stuffed into his belt, was an abused letter, his Mother's mark on the seal.  He couldn't wait to read it. . .

Title: Re: Tyr'riel - Twists of Fate
Post by: RollinsCat on April 13, 2011, 01:44:21 pm

The elf wasn't familiar to him, but spoke politely in fluent common.  She was cute rather than pretty and a little plump but with a kind face framed by sun-gold hair; that and her warmly toned skin gave away her heritage.

"Tyr'riel William Reid Dragonheart?"

"Yes..."  

"For you.  From Tashe."  She handed him a scroll and inclined her head in a way reserved for children, but not an elven bow; rather, one that he'd seen his father use.  With a smile and a jingle of bells laced through a thick braid down her back, she left him staring at the rolled parchment.

He peeked at the scroll.  It had a familiar look, thick parchment the color of old cream, and the black-inked italic script he knew so well.  He didn't read it right away.  He was running late to the bowyer's and knew there were bows to sand and string.  Then his sword practice, no compliments today but only a few swats, and writing practice - he was proud of that.  He felt more fluent in elven than in common sometimes; he spoke elven so often, and common so little, that he'd forgotten a lot of words.

The house was empty when he got back.  The silence was restful, not that anyone was ever that loud, but sitting on his mattress and hearing only the diluted sounds of the forest and village worked a kind of magic on his muscles.  An apple and two hanks of bread later, he opened the scroll.

Tyr'riel

If you are reading this then our contacts have done their job.  I felt this needed to be delivered in a more secure manner, so Minu saw to the arrangements.

It has been too long, son.  Too long since we sent you to safety.  Too long to not be aware of the minutiae of your life and to not be able to look at you and remember what we are all fighting for.  It's been weighing on me, our apartness.  Perhaps I waited too long, I don't know; but I wish to have you closer.  Not as close as I would like - the Silver Buckle isn't safe yet and despite what your mother says neither would be the Coalition tower - but we've found a place that is safer than where we are, although not as safe as where you are.  

I'm writing in circles and this is no better than my last two drafts so the pits with it.  I'll write how I feel.  I'm tired of missing you and tired of you being so far away, in culture and accessibility as much as distance.  If you wish to return, our friends Shadowleaf and Feawen and their daughter Melaa have a place for you at the Krandor Hospital.

It would mean some work; they need help.  They would offer you room and board, food, friendship, and experience in hospital work.  It would be much easier to see you, as I travel there regularly.  And when it is safe to bring you home to the Buckle, you'd be much closer.

Mostly though, we'd like to get to know you again.  Our eight-year-old is gone and the man he's becoming is of great interest to us.  

If you'd like to come home then send a single word; yes.  We will make arrangements.  This is wholly your choice.  Neither I nor your mother nor Minu will pressure you.  We understand if you are still angry although I will not apologize for what we did - at the time, it was the best choice of a bunch of bad choices.  But you're not a child anymore.  We cannot keep you locked away forever.  For our sake and for yours...I'd die inside if I lost you, Ty, but I die inside a little every day for having sent you away.  Which motive should win?

So we invite you back.  A place that is often filled with news, and people you remember, and opportunities to grow.  Leaf and Fea have agreed to help you with your elven (if you still need it) and would love to have your assistance in the hospital.  You'd have to use your elven name and observe a few other simple deceptions, and we'd meet privately until such things aren't needed to protect you, but...

A single word: either yes, or no.  You can send this by bird.

We hope to hear from you soon


Your father, mother, and Elohanna


He ran his fingers around the edges as he started out the window.  Speechless with no one to talk to - excited, nervous, and in a tingly sort of shock.

Yes, or no?

Title: Re: Tyr'riel - Twists of Fate
Post by: Anamnesis on May 03, 2011, 07:29:03 am

She was a young elf of  barely 50 years old, with long wavy red hair much like her mothers, yet  with the fire color of her fathers. Her mothers pale blue eyes, and the thoughtfulness of her father. She had the beauty of both of her parents  bundled inside her and a passion to tell the truth as she felt it.
 
 Clarisse  sat upon the ledge of the bridge on the outskirts of town,  gazing down into the river that flowed beneath. Her feet dangling  over the edge very thoughtful and far more quiet than normal. She had received a letter from her mother while she had been in town gather  herbs for Grandma.
 
 She  had been so excited until she opened it and found an invitation to her  to come live with her, and extended her a chance to learn at the Krandor  Hospital, she would be coming with Ty, her best friend and when it was  safe returning home to Mariner's Hold to live.  
 
 She  held back her emotions at the corner of her eyes. She missed her mother  so much, and the years apart had been difficult, filled with  uncertainty and a distance that had been painful. It had been a time of  adjusting to the fact that her mother and father were never getting back  together. It had even been filled with the thoughts that she was not  important enough to her mother. She knew her mother loved her very much  though and came to see them as often as she could, but her calling had  led her elsewhere.
 
 She  knew it and now she had a chance to join her mother, and learn from  her, to again be a bigger part of her life. If she left home though would she ever be able to come back to live as she did now. Visits she  could make, and she would be leaving behind her family. Grandma,  Grandpa, her brothers, Coreth, and Auhry and Sister Nemo too. Her heart  was torn and the expression on her face was full of a range of emotions  as she held to the letter.
 
 Her  pale blue eyes so distant and even an bit of anger reached her heart.  How could her mother do this to her? How could she make her choose? She  reread the letter over and over again. She wasn't though, the letter  clearly was an offer, she only needed to let her know if she wished to  come. Her mother words were of understanding if she choose not to. Still  it did not make the decision any easier and how would she tell her  father. She really did want to go. It was an opportunity she would not  get, and she would be able to see more of the world.

Title: Re: Tyr'riel - Twists of Fate
Post by: RollinsCat on May 03, 2011, 03:14:39 pm

"A letter?  Really?  Can I see?"

Clarisse held it close, not wanting to share this one piece of her mother that was uniquely hers, not even with Tyr'riel.  "She just asked me to come.  She said Vmillwoilaniram and father would need her permission for me to leave and know I'd be safe."

"Oh.  So when are we leaving?"

"Well - uh.  How are we getting there?  Where would we meet them?"

He tore off another bite of deer jerky before answering, gnawing with thoughtful cadence.  "I have instructions from Dad.  We use a portal to Center and he, Mother, and Elohanna will meet us there.  We need to send him a message letting him know when we are leaving, so they can be waiting.  Just that - the date we leave, nothing else.  And we have to find a portal to use."

"I need to tell Father."  Her voice was barely audible, and she pressed the letter closer, like armor, or a shield.  "He won't be happy.  But maybe if he reads this..."  Slender fingers brandished the letter in a quick wave before she hugged it again.  He noticed how much a child's hand hers still was.  More and more he noticed how fast he grew next to her.  How tall he felt, and even though she almost five times his age, how grown he felt.  Not that she wasn't incredibly smart or wise compared to him but...his crush faded, day by day, as their few years of temporal symmetry slid past.

But she was still his friend, they were still not so far apart.  More than that - he was going to protect her.  Especially if they were leaving together.  There was never any doubt that he would someday return home but for her it was a monumental decision, one they'd say she was too young to make.  They'd spent many a night tossing arguments back and forth against her leaving and answering those arguments, hoping they could cover all the bases, worrying it would not be enough.  Elly's letter changed all that.  Now it was real and they only needed to pick a day.  And to convince her father to let her go...

Title: Re: Tyr'riel - Twists of Fate
Post by: Anamnesis on May 04, 2011, 07:21:58 am

"Daddie." Her soft voice filled through the room making it seem louder than it was. She knew that he would be sitting there, legs crossed, eyes closed, in a state of meditation, and she would not normally think of bothering him, but this was to important to her and she needed to speak with him. "Daddie?"


She sat down in front of him taking up a position of meditation, although her body easily revealed the tension and worry of emotions that came from her. She tried her best to let out a breath to relax her body.


Not sure how long she waited as time seemed to go by so slowly. In her hands she held to the letter. She watched her father adoringly, and gently reached her small hands up to touch his cheek, as she tried her best to memorize every detail of her father knowing she would miss him dearly and the tears that clung to the corner of her eyes on the bridge, now clung there again.


She could not count the days she had sat there in this same position as he taught her how to control her emotions, how he seemed to have some divine wisdom that understood her better than she knew herself.


She closed her eyes and tried to still her thoughts, laying the letter in her lap as she tried to calm, so that she would be able to present her side to her father, and hope that he would understand what she was asking.


While the time ticked by, she eventually cleared her mind and entered into her own state of meditation, whether it was only a few minutes or hours it didn't matter, until finally she opened her eyes and looked into her fathers eyes.


"Yes sweetheart?" He asked with a gentleness in his voice that he had for all of his children. His love for them was so deep none of them ever doubted it.


She blurted it out though she had tried her best to prepare an introduction to the thought, she could not help but just blurt it out."Daddie. I.. I want to go live with mom. I miss her Daddie and she has asked me to come stay, to learn from her, so that we can get to know each other again. Daddie, Please say I can?"


His smile was gentle for her, reassuring and indeed in the depth of his eyes he understood her desire. "I know you Clarisse and your mother and you know I could never keep you away from your mother. Are you certain this is what you wish?"


"I am Daddie, more than anything. I want to be with mom and learn from her. I want to be near her. I miss her and she asked. She asked if I would come! I will be able to study at the Krandor Hospital and see mom, and Ty will keep watch over me too, I will be able to help mom in her clinic. Please say yes. Please Daddie!"


"My Sweetheart, You were never mine to keep and I knew someday you would wish to make your own journey. You have your mother's heart for helping others, and I know how much this means to you to learn from her. I can not deny you that. I will miss you though very much. I know how much you love to write so I expect to hear from you all the time." A gentle smile touched his lips and he pulled her closer for a tight hug. "I love you Clarisse and if this is what you truly want. The answer is Yes."


Her arms wrapped around him tightly as they could manage. "I love you too Daddie. So much!" The tears that clung at the corners of her eyes fell gently down her rosy cheeks as she held onto him. She was going to miss her family deeply, but the chance to learn from her mother meant the world to her too.

Title: Re: Tyr'riel - Twists of Fate
Post by: RollinsCat on June 17, 2011, 10:51:48 pm

Floors swept.  Broom put away.  Graffiti cleaned.  Quiet halls.

Dad was in the guard house.  Leaf was out, as he'd been a lot, working on resources for the hospital.  Elly had gone in search of some people in town.  Feawen had Melaa and the little elven girl was running her ragged today.  Clarisse was helping with rounds.  It was planting season, most of the kids were out in the fields or tending to chores of their own.

No one paying attention to him.  Lots of time to think.

He was back with humans again.  Some things felt the same.  Chores and lessons - Feawen had taken over his elven language instruction but he was pretty fluent in conversation so she was teaching him some of the harder stuff, the ancient words still used and some of those old symbols.  And she didn't know all of them, so they ended up just talking in elven a lot.  He was okay with it.

Wakizashi practice he kept up.  Someday, maybe, that would be his rice and fish, like those powerful emerald-studded friends of his fathers that he saw from time to time.  There was no one at the hospital to continue his sword training so he'd gone to the town guard post and asked for training there.  Of course they wouldn't train some scruffy kid, they were guards and soldiers, but one guy – who had a kid his age – agreed to teach him off hours, so long as the guy's son was also there.  It wasn't rapier, more like regular sword practice, and he got the feeling the son just wanted to be a farmer and was afraid to tell his father.  He hated that the man seemed to like him better because he was better with a sword but there wasn't anyone else and so he went to train.  The man's kid didn't like him much.

Paddy's lessons he was rusty on.  It had been hard to sneak around the elves, and harder to find locks to pick in a village where people didn't even have doors sometimes.  He'd mostly worked on his balance there on tree branches and stuff; here, there were doors, chests, cabinets, a ton of practice places all around the hospital.  He never took anything.  Just tried to pick it, set the tumblers again if he succeeded, and got out.  Leaf had given him a few old traps to practice with as well and he set and disarmed them as fast as he could.  It seemed like a good skill to know.

He'd hid in the woods a few times too, just like in the village, pretending that he and Autumn were examining a tree or watching some animal.  He missed her more now that he was on Mistone.  The forests were half-remembered childhood dreams come back to life.  It didn't seem the same without her to wander with him and teach him.

But for all the things that felt the same, a lot felt different.  Being back around humans was weird.  Really, really weird.  Like having a time freezing spell fade and finding out what you missed.  He felt disconnected.  He'd been a little kid, mostly happy.  Then just like that he'd been alone in a strange place and now, boom, he was back and that quiet elven village of the last few years was becoming a painting in his mind.  Fixed, unchanging...the alchemist he’d helped, the bow shop he'd apprenticed at, the winding lanes built around the trees...dappled light flickering through leaves.  His tree.  He missed his tree.  But he didn't think he'd forget the details this fast and it was confusing and a little painful.

Life was louder here.  The village was larger, there were old people; he hadn't seen too many aged faces in the last few years.  Even old elves kind of looked young.  And things here felt like they went too fast.  People didn't stop to examine, didn't stop to listen or understand, they just rushed, rushed, rushed.  It was too much like one of those wooden whirl-rounds that fairs sometimes had and it made him a little sick in the same way.

Dad tried to help, with talking, with music.  Dad was staying in Krandor a while.  He kept saying being together again was the best therapy for them except that now he was in jail so how did that figure?  He had to stop thinking about it.  It made him want to cry and he was way too old to cry.

But, he'd cried when they’d first seen each other.  Dad had too.  The letters exchanged had not prepared him for what his father would look like.  And the other way around, he guessed, by the way they'd just stared at each other.  Dad was...older.  Not wrinkly or grey-haired or anything although he did have a few grey hairs now and a few of those eye-lines when he smiled.  It was more a feeling, the way he talked.  War had changed him, he'd said.  War, and that terrible thing he'd done to that mom and kid.  

He knew the mom and the child lived around here.  He hadn't tried to find them yet.

His father smelled the same, when they finally hugged.  Cigars, sandlewood.  Soap.  He remembered the wet warmth of his dad’s tears in his hair and the fierceness of that embrace, protective and apologetic all at once.  How his dad has whispered his name over and over.  Held him until he was almost embarrassed.  He wasn’t a kid anymore.  He broke away first.

Mother hadn't been there.  He only had her few letters.  Her memory was a purple and black smudge now.  A voice, early morning sword practice, fear, the leather armor, the cloak.  The eyes.  He wanted to know where she was; Dad only said to write her care of the Rofierinites of Fort Vehl and that she could explain herself.  Dad was mad at her, really mad, deep inside.  He could tell.  It was confusing.  Elly had been there though and she was as warm and welcoming as ever – until she'd seen Clarisse, and then they were wrapped up in their own bundle of happy and sad and crying and it was just him and Dad again.  That was okay.  He was ready to forgive his father.  All the other emotions were tiring anymore, anyway.

He replaced candles while conversations rattled in his head.  All the way traveling here they had talked.  Talked about the war, about what he'd learned in the bow shop, about his rapier lessons and his teacher; he'd made Dad laugh with his imitations of the sour fencing master.  They'd talked about his elven lessons and the friends he’d had.  He found out he’d never been on Voltrex.  That surprised him, but it was “for his protection”.  He wanted be angry that he’d been so much closer than he had thought, but anger was draining, and pointless right now.  Amirilanaelam amecc fa, amecc fa.

They’d talked about the War.  He got the feeling Dad had skipped some of the worst stuff.  Kuhl was still occupied but his dad and a bunch of others had done some good.  There was more to do, Dad said.  They’d played guitar together, sparred, and Dad had sung a bunch of songs.  And they talked about what Dad was going to do here in Krandor.

“A declaration?”

“I need to present what I did in my own words.”

“You already did.  You wrote them a letter, you said so.”

“It was a placeholder, nothing more, Ty.  I always knew I’d have to come back here.  There are things that you can’t run from forever.”

“This Amaria girl taught you that?”  They’d talked about her too, and how his father hand helped her and learned from her.

“She did.  Ty, I don’t want to be locked up.  But if I am, being locked up in the same town as you is some consolation.  I need to find out what happened to that woman and her boy.  I need to do what’s right, this time.”  His father had taken necklace in hand and hummed.

“Why did you take so long to do it then?  Amaria could have waited.”  Dad had no answer for that.  Or, he did, but he wasn’t telling, which was annoying.  Ty might have been gone a while, but he still knew what that cheek twitching meant.  Dad had something to hide.

Not for long.  He would wait.  He knew how to wait, and how to choose his moment.

And now.  Dad in jail, and him alone.  Barely enough time to catch up on all the minutiae of their separate lives and he was alone again.

Time to fold the sheets.

Title: Re: Tyr'riel - Twists of Fate
Post by: RollinsCat on June 19, 2011, 04:42:58 pm

A chair scrapes across stone.  There is a soft thump.

"So."

"So."

"You look awful in broadcloth."

"Thanks.  Good to know I passed on a critical eye for fashion."

"You didn't pass anything on.  I'm adopted."

Long silence.

"How are you holding up?"

"Oh, great.  Talk of the town, since my father's in jail.  Peachy.  Thanks for asking."

"I'm sorry - the punishment is more than I thought, but - at least you know I can't go anywhere for a year..."  The strained baritone trails off weakly.

Silence for five heartbeats.  Ten.

"Say something."

"What do you want me to say?"

"I don't know, anything, I've missed you to the point of madness and we only have one hour a day."

"Anything?  How about 'thanks for the month, it was fun, don't worry about me - I'm used to be a stranger and an outcast wherever I live'."

"Say what you feel.  That's a good start."

"What I feel.  What I feel..."  An incredulous laugh.  "Okay.  Okay - here's what I feel.  WHAT THE HELLS IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE?!!!!"  

Swift booted feet - a deep male voice.  "Is everything okay in here?"

"Fine.  Fine, he's just getting some emotion out.  It's okay, he might yell some more - "

"You're gods-dammed right I will!"

"When did you start using language like that?"

"Keep it down, we don't want the other prisoners getting riled.  You can't keep calm, you can't come visit."  The booted feet recede.

"I'll wait outside."  Female voice, soft but strained.  Padded, light steps and the swish of fabric on stone.

Silence.

"What do you mean, outcast."

"I mean, people ask where my mother is.  What do I tell them?  She's in jail in Fort Vehl for arson, murder, harming a child.  They ask who my father is - if they don't know already - and what do I tell them?  He's in jail for manslaughter of a woman and child.  Do you know how many parents won't even let their kids TALK TO ME?"

"...I'm sorry."

"You sure as hells are."

"Stop with the cussing.  You're better than that."

"Okay, Mr. Bad Example."

"Ty - "

"No.  No, no, no.  I'm just as alone here as I was with the elves.  I have no friends and nothing to do all day but hospital chores, I don't have a rapier teacher, I don't have parents, I don't have anything.  I'm sick of it.  Sorry isn't good enough.  Send me back, at least with the elves they don't look at me like I'm going to whip out a sword and run them through any minute."

"I - "

"And you're not helping."

"What, exactly, do you want me to do."  

"I don't know - make yourself popular, you're always good at that.  Do something to help someone else, or make the guards like you, or - I don't know!  Maybe then it won't be so hard on the outside."  A sniffle followed by an angry cough.  "I always knew Mother was a little nuts but I swear I never thought you'd end up here.  Never.  Not you.  People hate me because of who you are.  And it's making me hate you both, right when I thought I was over it."

"...son, I wish I could help but I have no instruments, no paper, no ink or quill, nothing - only what you see on me."

"You have your voice.  Sing.  Sing and maybe make someone better.  Sing and keep things calm like you do.  I know you can, you showed me, remember?  Entertain the prisoners so they don't cause trouble or something.  Anything!  Everyone thinks you're just guilty as all sin because you turned yourself in and didn't fight the charges..."

"I am guilty."

"Yeah but if people hear good things, maybe they won't be so harsh.  Just try because if I have to spend the next year walking around being treated like the son of two murderers, I'm going to - to - I'll go join the Rofies or the Pratnz Army or something, I swear!"  

Long, long pause.

"What?  You're not telling me something."

"It's fine."

"Liar.  Whatever.  Just do something because you're not the only one getting punished here."

"I...I'll try.  The Captain might let me, I don't know...I can ask.  She mentioned my talents might come in useful."

"It's a start."

"When did you turn into me?"

"I'm not you.  I'm not in jail."

"Do you want a fencing master?"

"Yes, the guard guy doesn't teach that, just regular sword work.  But there aren't any, so."

"I can ask Master Damon.  My teacher.  He might, he's agreed to teach you before but then we had to send you away."

"...you would?  I mean, I could learn from him."

"He's tough, kid.  Don't let his mild manners fool you.  I was thinking of asking for routines that can be done without a weapon, so I can keep up practice in my cell, so yes - I'll ask.  But he's nothing like that old elf you told me about.  He's very practical."

"Good.  That would...that would help."

"Son?"

"What."

"Daisuki desu."

"...yeah.  Okay.  I'll see you tomorrow."

Title: Re: Tyr'riel - Twists of Fate
Post by: Lareth on July 20, 2011, 09:45:51 pm

**A tall well muscled elf walked into the room where the young man waited, his footsteps light, but assured, his boots making almost no noise as they struck the floor.  Damon turned to Ty and smiled as he began speaking**

So.. Ty.. your father has asked me to see to your instruction with the blade, is this truly what you wish for?

**Waiting a very short moment, for the inevitable affirmative answer, he carried on speaking**

If we are to do this, I shall expect no less than your fullest devotion to the exercises we practice, and to the lessons which we will learn together.  An enquiring mind is also needed, we shall put into practice our drills and examine the reasons behind them, so that we are able to fully comprehend the lessons.

**A broader smile plays across Damon's lips, as he pauses then continues**

Now, young sir.. your father has given me permission to take you on a trip, so that we may begin our lessons.  In fact if I be truthful the trip itself is our first lesson, for I would have you taken out of your element, away from those things most familiar to you.  It will sharpen your mind to focus better on our training if there are no distractions.  So, go now, pack take clothes only, soft boots that are comfortable and light, we leave for the training arena of Vehl with the next tide.

**The voyage passed uneventfully, which given Damon's unusual bad luck with sea faring was something he was thankful for.  He spent the days of their journey, getting to know his young student better, learning what the young man would share of his life, but not pressing for more than Ty was willing to reveal.  Upon arrving in Vehl, they made for the One Eyed Harpy Inn, after obtaining them rooms, Damon went up, checked the beds, promptly threw tick infested bedding into a large burlap sack, and replaced it with sheets and linens he had "borrowed" from the Buckle.  After a swift breakfast, they headed out into the city, taking a diversion to stop by one of the many live poultry vendors, where armed with a loudly protesting chicken they arrived at the training arena of Vehl**

I'm sure you are wondering just what a chicken has to do with learning the sword?

Well.. yeah..

**With a devilish smile, Damon replied**

Our first lessons involve you catching the chicken using your hands.. this will give me a good feel for your reflexes, coordination, and also speed.  Be gentle with your hands, for I do not want her hurt, so no jumping ontop of her, you must use your feet and hands only to chase and catch.

**Ty's reply came with the full confidence of youth**

Pfft.. I thought you'd have something challenging for me to learn...

**Damon's laugh sounded clear and bright across the room**

**sometime later Ty began to see that catching a healthy, free roaming chicken which does not want to be caught is no easy feat, especially in a large room such as the Arena.  Those times when he came close, were often fended off by a vicious peck from the beak of the hen, or a buffet of the wings which prevented him from closing his grasp, and allowed the bird time to escape his clutching hands.  Eventually, youth, perserverance, and the fact the Ty was strong and quick, combined and he caught up the bird in his hands, turning to Damon with triumphant smile he held the chicken high in his victory, puffing with exertion**

Good, very good indeed, now let her go and try again.  A little more effort if you please Tyr'Riel, time is wasting, and there is much we must get done for today.

Let her go???  But I just... Yes master Damon.

**Back and forth the contest waged between Ty and the hen, round and round the arena.  With added practice he did indeed get better at catching her, and mostly he was able to succeed in a shorter time span, each time.  Damon pushed him hard, but allowed breaks for both Ty, and chicken to recuperate, eat and drink**

Master Damon..

Yes?

Can you show me how you catch the chicken?

**Ty's grin was plain to see**

Surely, for this is part of the days lesson.

**laughing happily Ty released the Hen into the arena, Damon took off after her, harrying her quickly toward one of the corners of the building.  With the angle narrowed, he swooped in and scooped her up gently in his hands.  Turning with a smile to Ty, he held her up.  Ty's pout was clear all the way across the room**

But.. but thats cheating Master Damon.. you said use your hands..

True, but nowhere did I say to stop using your head to direct your hands and feet.  So here you see our first true lesson of the day, as your father will tell you, a warriors most dangerous weapon is his mind, let it direct you, guide you.  This I cannot teach you to do, you must learn to do it for yourself, what we will do is train so that when your thoughts require action, your body can answer, without hesitation.  So your strikes will come fluently, their accuracy will be true, and I hope that with this, well you'll be kept in one piece.  Now, take some time and rest a little more, we have one more lesson for the day.

**Once Ty's rest was up, Damon led him out of the arena, and on to the docks of the port city.  Seeing a straggling pair of children, thin and obviously hungry clustered around a small shack, where presumably it was their mother worked, mending the nets of fishermen.  Damon headed that way, upon arrival the children clustered around him**

Oi mistah.. you wanna give us that hen?  'Er eggs'll help keep us fed they will

I'll tell you what **Damon said, a curious look on his face**  You, and Ty will all have to try and catch her, whoever does it first will get the Hen..and Ten true weight coins.

**With that said, Damon lined them up, then let the Hen down an equal distance from each of them.  Quick as ty was, the youngest of the two other children, thinner than her brother moved with lightning speed, rounding the outstretched arms of the two boys, she grabbed the hen by the feet and shouted with joy.  Damon smiled and gave her her prize, then taking Ty, headed back to the Harpy**

So, Ty, can you tell me what was the purpose of that last lesson?

**Ty's face creased with thought for a few moments**

Well.. if you ask me.. I think that because they were real hungry.. well thats what made that little girl get there first

**smiling and clapping him on the back Damon turned to him**

Exactly, our actions carry a wholly different weight when our life is dependent on them, and remember that applies just as much  for our adversary as it does for us.  So be ready to give it your all, for your enemy surely shall, each and every time.

Title: Re: Tyr'riel - Twists of Fate
Post by: RollinsCat on July 25, 2011, 10:48:22 am

It was, to the best of his recollection, the nicest birthday he'd ever had.  He'd picked the menu; spit-roasted squab crusted in spices, pork medallions, roasted red potatoes, buttered carrots, sugared dried fruits, Dad's rice noodles in cream sauce, and chocolate-and-almond pie for dessert.  Dad and Elly and Michael and Paddy and Edward and Heloise were there and Michael's wife and new baby too.  A few of his new friends came by, including Sadie, and for the first time in a long while he felt at home somewhere.  He had family and friends - it didn't get much better, really.  He'd even sent his mother a letter and told her to visit.  It was time for them to talk.

He had not asked for much, but he'd been gifted with a new Huangjin sabre, new boots - with good soles for gripping wood or stone, to help with his rapier lessons - and something he never expected, a book of guitar music his father had written exclusively for him.  Dad also gave him other books he'd written over the years, even the first one with the pictures of him and Tiger, his mother, the apple.  Elly had given him a book of elven stories and fables, in elven, as well as some of Voltrex's history "in case he ever needed to know".  Those leather-bound books meant more to him than even the finest sword.

There was also a hefty dose of guilt from the parent who'd been absent for his last five birthdays, although he resisted the temptation to exploit that guilt.  Well, mostly.  He did request a fancy set of clothes, custom fitted, at the best tailoring shop in Mariner's Hold.  He didn't care that much about clothes but Sadie did, and he wanted to impress her...way more than he should want to impress anyone.  He went with blues and blacks, Dad said he should wear blues since they worked with his complexion.  

He was fifteen now.  Looking through the books later, after the party was over and he was stuffed and feeling mellow-good, he had a twinge.  Fifteen; he remembered Dad looking at him, Elly looking at him, both of them talking, and it seemed like Elly was trying to cheer Dad up.  And the books...it wasn't goodbye, but it was...maybe more like an acknowledgement.  Their past was behind them and he wasn't a child any longer.  He was allowed to go places with Master Damon but without his parents.  He was allowed to wander Mariner's Hold alone, with the understanding that he not go certain places and especially not certain hours of the day.  Dad had more of a problem with it than Elly - it was she who talked him into allowing Ty that freedom.  But her point was made.  He wasn't a child.  He was only a few years from leaving.

And leave he would.  The world was both a lot bigger and a lot smaller than it was when he'd been a child running around the woods surrounding a tower in Co'rys, or a boy exploring every nook and cranny of the Twin Dragons Inn and a huge old inn in Mariner's Hold, or running around the woods of an elven village.  Or a young human man going through an isolated puberty in Krandor.  For better or worse his education had come at the hands of parents who could not leave well enough alone.  He didn't think he could either; although, in many ways, he felt he could do a better job.  At least he wouldn't end up in jail.

The morning after his fifteenth birthday, he got the strangest, best present yet, although it was Helly that pointed it out; facial hair.  He had not noticed.  He didn't spend a lot of time in the mirror beyond trying to tame his unruly, thick, straight black hair and he never liked looking at his old pox scars - but upon running to the privy mirror, there they were, a smattering of beard hairs and the beginning of a downy mustache.

Hah!  Something he could do he knew his Dad couldn't.  Happy birthday to me!

Title: Re: Tyr'riel - Twists of Fate
Post by: RollinsCat on July 31, 2011, 07:02:43 pm

A letter is read, re-read, thoughtfully flicked with an index finger.  He cannot speak to his father about it; Dad is in Port Hempstead.  Clarisse is busy every day learning from Heloise, and the both of them learning from Elly.  Who, then?

The answer presents itself in soft footsteps.  He knows they are just loud enough for him to hear on purpose.  Paddy swats the back of his head if he sneaks up on Ty these days.  He gets swatted a lot.

He's training with his friend again and he enjoys it.  He's learned a few interesting things practicing his sneaking around the Inn, on those occasions he manages to do it successfully.  Elly and Heloise he can watch from shadows; they focus on their tasks at hand and do not hear him.  Michael, harder to sneak up on, as is his father.  Edward is almost impossible to surprise and Clarisse as well.  She always seems to know when he's around.  

He's never snuck up on Paddy.  His friend's hearing is scary good.

He shows Paddy the letter.  They talk.  It's not parent to child, more like big brother to little brother.  He likes that.  He sometimes misses not having siblings.  Paddy has some interesting things to say about parents.  Things Ty didn't know, things that ring the same if the reasons are different.  He feels less alone after that.

He reads the letter one last time before tucking it into a drawer and writing back.


Tyr'riel,

The last time we saw each other, things did not go as I had wanted.  I did not think you would be angry with your father and I for sending you away, though I do not blame you for being angry with us for our crimes.

I apologize for striking you.  The tone you took with me was not one I was willing to take from you, but that does not mean I should have hit you.  But regardless of how you feel about my decisions regarding you or others, I am still your mother.  And your father is still your Father.  I would hope you would have the proper respect for us as your parents.

I understand you were told, by some one, that we adopted you shortly before we sent you away.  I'm sure that did not help you cope with being away from us.  If you ever want to discuss the facts of your 'adoption,' please come see me, or ask me if I am around.  I will tell you what I can.

With Love,
Your Mother

Title: Burn Notice
Post by: RollinsCat on August 24, 2011, 12:59:45 pm

The address is an alleyway, shaded from the evening sun.  Thankfully.  Ty scans, smiling a little, humming.

"Don't look like you're doing what you're doing."

Another smiling glance around.  A meat pie vendor selling his last wares; three kids with their mother; two stevedores headed toward the docks.  He walks into the alley as if he means to, which he does, but not for the reasons he hopes people assume.  There is a window to the left as his instructions say and it is open.  Another stroke of luck.

"Luck's a friend but don't count on it, ever.  Just thank Deliar when you get it."

A whispered thanks to the halfling god as he walks past the window.  He has a look as he passes.  He sees two women, hears a man and some other men's laughter.  They're in the living area beyond the hearth room since the weather is warm.  No one in the hearth room that the window opens into.  Scan surroundings -- no one -- turn, walk back.  

It's not a large window and he's not small, not anymore.  A few fingers shy of six feet, with muscles born of daily sword practice and Damon's instruction as well as nature's blessing.  He's still nimble though -- sit on the sill, curl legs up, spin, in.  There is a prep table under the window; he turns again, thrusting his legs out with his palms on the sill to brace.  The thump he makes sounds loud to him.  The laughter continues and he takes cover beside a cupboard to scan.

"Look quick but look good.  Got to think about what you want and keep your eyes for what you might need too."

Knives, forks; fruit in a basket; bread cooling on a counter, the hearth has soup on to boil.  The cupboard is closed.  The floor is swept and the room organized and neat.  The piece of deep gold parchment on the floor looks out of place.  

Footsteps; he sinks back, out of sight from the archway into the room.  The steps stop at an open shelf cut into the archway.  Male hands pulling a bottle of wine off the shelf, and he hears a woman calling for 'the good red!'.  The man heads back to the living area.

Ty crouches and picks up the paper by one corner.  Two words; Hale's storeroom.  He cannot know if they saw the paper or not, so he returns it to where he found it.  Either they saw it and decided to deal with it later, or they'll think it blew in.

"Don't take anything.  Fix it in your mind or copy it, you can write good, so do that.  Most people don't notice when things goes missing right away but eventually they will so don't take the chance less you have to."

Hale's?  That's a flower shop.  He waits until he hears the cork pulled from the new bottle of wine before checking the window exit.  Not clear, a man's relieving himself against the opposite wall maybe ten feet away.  Rude; they're going to smell that.  The man finishes and walks off, hiking up his pants.  Ty checks the alley then turns, palms down on the sill, and pulls himself backward to a sitting position with legs hovering over the prep table; curl; spin; out.  

Not too difficult, that one.  Just a matter of keeping quiet.  He heads to the opposite end of the alley from where he entered.  Hale's is two streets down in that direction.  He picks a medium pace although his nerves tell him to hurry.

"Rushing'll kill you.  Don't rush.  Rushing makes noise; rushing makes mistakes.  Go easy."

Hale's is a corner store straddling two busy streets and well-known.  His father buys flowers there when he needs to decorate for a party.  Ty enters along with three people fussing loudly over zinnias and carnations versus roses and irises; he immediately turns, back to Mister Pierotti the shopkeep, and examines a display of lilies.  The door to the back room is on the wall opposite the entrance.  It's closed.

"Lyndra!  Zinnias!"  Lyndra, a cute blonde tending clippings by the window, jumps at the man's bellow and dashes through the storeroom door.  There are decorative pots on that wall and Ty moves to examine them, near the door Lyndra ran through.  The floor of this shop is not swept and not neat after a day of commerce.  There is a decent sized wood chip and a few smaller ones scattered among the dirt and petals.  When Lyndra comes out a minute later with sprays of flowers in her hands, he kicks the wood chip between the door and the frame.  It does not latch.

Now, patience.  He picks up a pot, examines it as he's seen his father examine pots, puts it back.  They're not as nice looking as the ones his grandparents sometimes send but they seem solid enough -- he can't really tell.  He doesn't know clay.  The cluster of socialite want-to-be's behind him are haggling over quantity and price, and they are in a clot around Mister Pierotti and Lyndra as the bouquets are arranged.  Ty toes the door open and slides through.

A short hall to a cool room with one shuttered window.  On shelves and tables are cut flowers in vases of water and dried flowers on racks.  The room smells overpoweringly floral.  He doesn't see any paper.  Another scan as he stands behind the door -- wait --

"Doors, kid, don't stand behind them less you check how far they open.  See, most people open them all the way and if the hinges allow they'll hit the wall.  Or you, if you're trying to hide behind it.  Yup, I know that from experience.  So less you know the door won't open all the way, find a better place to hide."

He moves to the corner on the door wall; it's dark, and if he crouches he's completely in shadow.  Crouching brings the space under the large metal drying rack in view.  There is a piece of deep gold parchment far back.  Only one corner is illuminated by the light leaking through the shutters.

Well, hells.

"Use what's around when you can.  Less you take with you, less you got to worry about, and it keeps your head up and alert.  So see what's there before you start fussing through your kit.  You got your head in a kit looking for a pick, you're not paying attention."

Tongs, on the wall.  He listens -- nothing but the braying of the three women over those zinnias and carnations -- and scurries to the wall, grabbing the tongs and holding them just above the floor to snag the paper.  Done.  Footsteps -- hurried -- heavy -- Mister Pierotti.  He puts the tongs back where he found them and slides to his corner, back resting on the cool brick, feet under him.

"If you got to hide, make sure you're comfortable as you can be.  Don't get all contorted, it's going to hurt, but try to be in a position to move.  If you can get your back to something that helps.  Figure you're going to have to man through some muscle cramps though."

"PEONIES!  TELL THEM THEY CAN HAVE PEONIES!  Who in right mind want zinnia in a bouquet?  Crazy!  Crazy, I say!"   The white-haired flower vendor throws up his hands as he bellows his way into the room, the last sentence repeated to himself as he plucks pink flowers from a vase.  Ty relaxes, not looking directly at the man, taking deep, slow breaths.

"Don't watch people.  Most of them won't notice but a few, they get that tickle in the back of their neck when they're watched.  Keep them in your side seeing, but don't look right at them.  And breath slow, keep your mouth open.  See, you breath through your nose, maybe you're going to want to sneeze or maybe worse you're going to want to yawn, that happens to me.  Best way I found is to take slow deep breaths with your mouth open so you get enough air but you can take it in quiet."

Mister Pierotti leaves, still muttering.  He never looks in the corner.  Ty waits until he can hear both the owner and Lyndra in the shop.  He checks the window; dusty, but the shutters have been opened recently.  The window is locked though and he can't re-lock it behind him so the door it must be.

Heading down the short hall he hears the muted clinking of True in a pouch.  He can't scope without possibly catching a stray gaze so he just walks out, bold as brass.  Lyndra notices him, frowns, shakes her head and mouths 'employees only'.  She's not concerned.  After all, there is no money nor any expensive goods in the storeroom, only flowers, and who would go through that much trouble to steal them?  He nods at her with a sheepish grin, shrugging.  

He's been made so he might as well find a reason to be here.  There's aloe in decorative pots in a medicinal plant display and he takes a nice fat-leaved one to the counter.  Clarisse will like it for the clinic.  Lyndra takes his coin and he's free.  He waits until he's down the street before checking the paper.

Crimwell and Sons.  He stops in the middle of the sidewalk.  By the gods!  He knows about the security in that place, he's been there with his father, it's a bleeding vault.  He's not that good!  The second line reads -- red handkerchief.  That's all.  

Crimwell and Sons is back on the docks so he turns down Longshore Avenue, aloe in hand, keeping his easy pace.  It feels like hours and minutes both until he sees the huge warehouse.  He's not sure they'll even let him in, and he's right.  The two hefty chunks of muscle outside ask him his business -- he's at a loss.  He didn't think about that.

"Always have a reason.  Watch your dad, he's good at that.  Always know why you're anywhere and who you are and what you intend to do.  If it means lying, well, keep a few names and personalities in the back of your mind.  But most important, always have a reason."

He tenses.  Failure -- this close...and he's failed.  He tries to make up a quick lie about doing some shopping for his father but he's standing there with the aloe plant still in his hand.  Okay, the talking, the lying, he's not so good at yet.  The sneaking is easier.  Lunk number One says to tell his father to come back when he's done playing favorites with Denock and he nods, turning...

...a red handkerchief.  In Lunk Two's right pocket.  He's still learning that art, and it's one Paddy teaches with many caveats, so he's not good.  How can he get it?  Grab and run?  He's about to do just that, the Lunks are staring harder at him, when he hears a sniffle from someone nearby.  A sniffle...

"Ahh..."

"Hey kid.  Not on my shoes."

"AHH...ahhhHHH...."

He's rearing his head back, finger under his nose, really selling it.  Lunk One laughs and Lunk Two yanks the handkerchief from his pocket and hands it to him.  Ty sneezes violently, briefly sick from the slimy feeling of what is probably an earlier Lunk Two sneeze drying on the rough cloth, then wipes his nose.

"Dank you."  He offers it back; it's refused.  Thank you Deliar, again.  They wave him off.  He's giddy as he turns in the direction of the Silver Buckle, just catching a shared grin between the two men.  What was that for?

Ah well -- the red handkerchief is his.  He gets out of sight of the men, strolling swiftly and with purpose, then finds a place to rest and check the cloth.  Disgusting.  Under his forced mucus and Lunk Two's actual expectorant is the name of an outdoor café near the Buckle.  No specifics.  He continues as he's going, looking for the telltale rainbow awnings that mark the eatery.

Paddy is sitting at a small table, hair combed, wearing his usual plain brown.  Ty slips into the opposite seat with a triumphant grin.

"Took you a while."

"I didn't rush."

"Good."  Paddy smiles and pushes a cup of tea toward him.  "Any problems?"

"The girl in Hale's saw me come out, I played dumb and she seemed to buy it.  I couldn't come up with a good excuse to get into Crimwells so I had to fake a sneeze to get the handkerchief."  He's still proud of that bluff.  Paddy notices.

"Bet they enjoyed that."

"They kind of did..."  Paddy's sudden grin made him squint.  "They weren't in on it, were they?"

No response but the grin didn't stop.  "So just under two hours.  Good work.  You got talent."

"Hey."  Ty pauses to sip his tea then looks at his mentor and friend.  "You're good, Paddy.  Why do you do security for dad when you could be out making lots of money?"

"Who says I'm not?"

"Like what?"

"I do the odd job."

"For a guild?"

The older man narrows his brows, sips slowly then sets the cup down with a single clink before responding.  "What I do, what I'm teaching you, isn't theft.  I catch you stealing, Tyr'riel William Reid-Dragonheart, I'll rip your nuts off, then tell your dad, THEN tell your mother."

Ty pales, fingers twitching a little.

"What I'm teaching you is useful for better things, not just stupid petty theft.  I'm above that.  You're above that.  Don't make me think I was wrong."

"Nosir."

Paddy nods.  "And I'm not that good.  Not Crimwell good.  I can't get in there either."  He grins again.  Ty relaxes a little.  "And you know I'm soft as Elly's biscuits over Helly, figure having a nice safe job most of the time will keep her happy."  Paddy lowers his voice.  "I asked.  She said yes."

"By the gods, congratulations!  When?"

"Soon as we get a time figured out.  Your dad'll want us to have it at the Buckle I'm betting."

"Good bet."

Paddy pushes the empty tea cup aside.  "Got business to attend to.  You did good.  I'll see you later."

The Silver Buckle security head leaves, dropping coin on the table.  Ty stays a while.  He did good, but he has so far to go.  He enjoys staying with his father, but it's almost time, he can feel it.  He has to get out and learn on his own...soon.

Title: Re: Tyr'riel - Twists of Fate
Post by: Lareth on August 27, 2011, 04:43:21 pm

The sun had not yet risen, but Ty had been hard at work for over an hour, by this time he'd worked up quite a sweat, and was, though he would never had admitted it, completely exhausted.  The slim dark haired elf was working him hard.

"Come on master Ty'riel, another fifty strikes with each hand if you please.  Alternate hands if you will, and change your levels, don't fall into a pattern that becomes predicatable."

Ty, dutifully obeyed his fencing master, whilst he was tired from having been rousted out of bed early by Master Damon, he enjoyed the exercise, and besides he'd never give him the satisfaction of admitting that he needed a rest.

"Finished Master Damon!  Whats next?"  Ty said with a grin.

Damon smiled imperturbably as he approached, a long wooden case in his hands, which he carried with a care that bordered on reverence. Taking he practice foil which to this date Ty had been training with, he turned and clipped it into the rack on the wall of the exercise room. Running a hand along the top of the box, he flipped open the catches that held it closed and opened the box to reveal a simply forged and yet still elegant sword.  Near to the quillons that formed the guard, a flowing elvish script was etched into the blade.

"Tyr'Riel, it is time that we gave you a blade to use in your training, as there is a world of difference between the feel of a practice foil and a real blade.  So it is time for you to continue your lessons with me using a real sword.  This is 'Lealv eo Laemmeam' whilst this does not translate to well into your language the closest I can come is 'Song of Desolation'.  I hope that she serves you well as we learn."

With that he presented the blade and scabbard to Tyr'riel.

"Now, enough of your lollygagging young man!  Back to work with you."

"Slave driver!!!" Ty muttered under his breath..

"I heard that young sir" *Damon laughed* "If slave driver it is, then we shall see how I can live up to this for you.  Come follow me, lets make you really work."

Damon, with Ty in tow led him through a gruelling series of striking and movement exercises, which tested his fitness and coordination to the limit, especially with the added weight of his new sword.  Ty knew that this would only serve to strengthen his ability, still his lungs burned.  all the while the seemingly inexhaustable elf lectured him constantly.

"Eyes on your opponent at all times, watch them as they come in.  Your foe has fought before, often they are injured, take this knowledge and use it to your advantage.. can they only raise their arm to shoulder height, are they halt of a leg, do they favor one particular shield postion?  You must be able to tell this as they come in, and as you join combat with them.  Use this knowledge of how they fight, and exploit it, if they have a bad arm, attack it, a bad leg, go for the knee joint and take its use from them."

"Now, a respite for you.  100 more strikes at the dummy, with each hand please, again vary hands, levels  and strikes please.  I shall see you here tomorrow at the same time young sir."

Title: Re: Tyr'riel - Twists of Fate
Post by: RollinsCat on August 27, 2011, 08:57:07 pm

Lealv eo Laemmeam.  Master Damon was right - though Ty spoke elven, he would have translated it wrong.  The sword's slight curve, the cloth-wrapped, diamond-patterned handle, the metal's coppery gleam.  It was gorgeous.  His father had whistled and patted him on the back; Paddy had nodded approval; Michael and Edward were both impressed as well.  Hells, he wanted to go find his mother and show her, even.  It was really, really gorgeous.  He leaned to the blade and whispered, his breath fogging over the etched script before vanishing as if the weapon were soaking up the words.

"Ean'la ilcselaan anesa, sa omealw.  Lae nycelaa.  Lae nycelaa."

Title: Re: Tyr'riel - Twists of Fate
Post by: RollinsCat on September 02, 2011, 07:53:48 pm

In sparse, cramped script.

To:
Andrew Reid
c/o The Silver Buckle Inn
Mariner's Hold
Sagewald
Alindor

Dad

I'm on Mistone like I said.  I'm fine, Miss Ferritt told me to write and said you were worried so I'm writing.  I'm alive and living out of the Bulls-Eye if you need to send anything.  Although Sir Daniel says he might have a place for me but that's not yet so we'll see.  I went with him and some other people and helped him get skeleton knuckles and gave him all that I got from that crypt in Fort Vehl and he gave me some good healing potions.  Because of those I haven't died yet.  

Oh yeah I'm stone bound.  The stone let me stick to it or whatever.  I waited until I left so I wouldn't die on you and have it be your fault.  I just touched it and felt kind of spacy then I knew.  The one in Center, because I used the portal when I left.

Met some people.  Some guy named Aden, he's alright, kind of skilled like me.  Met Sir Daniel and Miss Ferritt and some of the other Angels, and Melody.  She went off with that Ilsarian elf and his elf girlfriend last time I saw her, the ones you know, and she seemed kind of worried and said she didn't have a weapon and all she could do was sing so maybe you can help her when she comes back.  Met some gnomes that kick and punch but I didn't get names, one gnome that uses a sword big as he is - he's a jerk.  He crushed one of the dice I took with me.  Some guy named Yolan and a Harrigan, they were okay.  Yolan had that attitude like a Toranite or maybe a Rofie.  Yeah I met one of those too, Aarcus, he's Toranite and helped me a lot in this rat and bug filled basement.  That lady in Center should get a rat catcher down there instead of asking people, it'd be cheaper.  Are all Toranites that helpful?  I should meet more.

I haven't found Master Damon yet but tell him I've been practicing.  I did find Mother.  She found me really.  Dad, she was nice, it was creepy.  Like, really nice.  She talked to me like I wasn't a kid and hugged me in public.  Weird.  I let her watch my blade work and she made fun of it but you said she would.  Calls it dancing but that's okay by me.  She made me get her some aloe then gave me some potions like the ones Sir Daniel gave me, that was nice.  Still weird though.

I saw the auction flyer.  Can't believe you're doing it again.  You're crazy.  I did get some food stuff for the Angels food drive and got some new clothes and jewelry and a magical cloak that I had sewed into a backpack.  A sneaky backpack.  I think that's funny.

So quit worrying I'm okay, I'm doing what Paddy taught me and what Master Damon taught me and I can write with both hands now.  It's pretty neat that it looks so different with each hand, like I have two personalities.  Maybe that will come in handy some day.  Tell Master Damon that I am good at dodging and really good with the sabre now that I'm practicing on things that move.  And I have some better instincts when I get too close in to combat and I can swap the sabre from hand to hand no problem.  And I'm thinking when I fight.

Okay done.  I'll come back home maybe for the auction.  Say hi to Elly and Helly and Mike and Ed and Paddy and Charlie.  And pet the cat for me not that she'll care.  Give Clarisse the letter in elven that I included Dad please.


Ty

Title: Re: Tyr'riel - Twists of Fate
Post by: RollinsCat on September 08, 2011, 12:16:58 pm

This hangover wasn't as rough, nor as long - he'd taken it easier than last time.  It lasted through breakfast, or what the One-Eyed Harpy called breakfast, which Heloise would have called Not Fit for Pigs.  Food was food though.  So long as it stayed down and kept him up.

A snort at the thought.  Him, so tough.  Tori's words still jabbed at him; babysat.  Yeah, okay, he was babysat, Dad had made sure of it.  He wasn't sure he minded.  So long as he was honest about it, so what.  He was learning same as everyone else.  Right?

Nope.  Still bugged him.

Get over it.  Your choice, so stop grouching.  Another spoonful of the oats meal that tasted like a wad of parchment soaked in lukewarm dishwater and his headache faded a little more, either from the food or fear of it.

He'd been drinking with Gramps last night.  Sitting on a barstool, sucking down watery lager and trading stories.  He had stories to trade, now, of crypts and lizardfish and lonely towers in swamps.  It was uncomfortable at first, there was a weird urge to crawl up in Grandpa's lap, but he shook it off.  After the second beer he felt more natural.  By the third he could pretend he was a man.  Grownup was a strange place.  He'd been too sheltered.  Way too sheltered.  The forth beer didn't happen - the glass was slid out of his hand before he could rap for another one.  "Kid, I'm not tellin' you what to do, but think about how drunk you wanna be in here."

Yeah, okay.

Finding Gramps was great.  Gramps didn't treat him like a child; Gramps had always let him do stuff that Mother and Dad would never.  It got him in trouble though and they'd cut him off from seeing Ty for a long, long time.  Couldn't do that now.  Gramps had thrown a stoneskin on him from some wand and turned him loose in the Gloom Woods and together they'd fought.  Aside from all the comments about his sabre ("Is that what they're calling a sword these days?") it was like having a good buddy...a really old good buddy, in destructive boots.  Cool.

The bowl was empty, thank the Gods.  He still had a huge piece of Elly's apple pie in his pack and the smell was jarringly seductive after his breakfast.  He ate the entire slice and considered washing it down with some ale but didn't.  Milk might get a laugh from the geezers at the bar but screw them; he needed to stay healthy.  The question was, for what?

Nothing here in Vehl, that was for sure.  But he had some talents and he was going to find a place to use them.  Sir Daniel would be a good place to start.  Shrugging on his pack, he made for the Rofirinite temple.

Title: Re: Tyr'riel - Twists of Fate
Post by: RollinsCat on September 27, 2011, 03:14:38 pm

Up with the dawn - hard to tell when that was, in a windowless room inside a cave, but he'd developed an internal clock over the last few years of training with Master Damon.  Dressed in loose trousers and a tunic, he headed outside for his exercise.  Fort Wayfare was waking.  The shops getting ready for the early morning business and a few fishermen already casting into the placid waters of the lake.

He ran the hill to get his heartbeat up, dashing back down the slope fast as he could and had to stifle a whoop as the early breezes whipped across him.  He vaulted the stone sides of the bridge and slowed to jog around the lake.  This was his favorite part, watching the morning light up the water and the sky shift colors.  He let himself relax a little.  It wasn't home; no place was, anymore; but it felt safe.

Then through the market area, past the inn to the warehouse.  He dodged people and kept up his speed, huffing but not out of breath.  The warehouse was an old barn stacked with boxes, cheap for travelers and merchants to use as storage but not too secure.  A gamble for thieves; most of the things in there were not valuable or too bulky to steal effectively.  The elderly night watchman nodded as he went past.  They had an agreement, for a little sum.  Ty jogged through the grey weathered slats of the double doors, rotted to jagged teeth top and bottom, and jumped the first crate, then the second.  A pause to check the stability of his target then a leap to a third crate, slipping a little on the dusty top.  It always reminded him of a giant's staircase.  He pushed to see how fast he could conquer it.  

The highest spot was along the far wall from the doors.  There were crates and barrels stacked back there that had never been claimed, now just part of the general clutter until the owner got curious or sick of looking at them.  Or something started to leak; he'd broken a barrel by landing too hard and gone ankle deep into something mucky that had turned out to be rotten cucumbers.  The watchman was not pleased and he'd had to clean it up.  The smell still haunted his appetite from time to time.  He was in good form today though, landing light, missing nothing.  Especially not the small crate he now stood on, that he'd took a tumble from a few weeks ago.  That fall had hurt but got him thinking.  He'd seen others tumble their way out of falls and it seemed a useful thing to know, so he'd come back two days later and jumped off a lower box to see if he could figure it out.  Hurt then, too.  Came back three days later and jumped again - and rolled.  Still hurt, but not as much.

Now, weeks later, he was jumping from up here, curling before he hit, rolling across the back of his shoulder, pulling his knees to his chest and landing crouched on his feet.  Not perfectly, not every time, but getting better.  Sometimes the geezer who sat in front of the warehouse during the day would wander in and shake his head.  Falling off heights for fun.  The old man just didn't get it.

He jumped.  His timing was as good as the day had started and the shock of landing was brief as he came around the roll and ended up on two feet.  A few more jumps, climbing back up where he knew he could hang off the crates without tipping them, then some landing practice on two feet, just from here to there, not falling.  Knees toward chest, arms up to stabilize, eye the landing spot.  Balls of feet first.  Knees no more than ninety degrees; hands out to absorb shock.  Diagonal roll if the momentum is bad.  He'd done it so many times.

That got a good sweat going.  He slouched on a couch that had been quietly decaying long before he'd ever set foot in the place and let his attention drift.  His last conversation with his mother came to mind.  He was in danger.  He should stay off Alindor and away from the Buckle until she dealt with her imposter.  A flicker of irritation at the thought.  Wondering if his dad was in danger too, deciding the answer was probably yes.  He should send a bird; Mother might not have told him.

Out of nowhere...or was it?...he wondered if his real mother and father had been in danger before they were killed or if it was a random act of violence, orcs or whatever.  He wondered if his real father could jump, when he was alive.  He wondered if he looked like them.  Did he have any brothers or sisters?  And why was he thinking of this now?

Because he was in danger.  And because his mother had said she would tell him, and now he had to avoid her and his father.  

Peeling off the dusty, cracked leather, he stretched and headed back to Lana's to wash off the sweat and grime and eat breakfast.  And to plan.  Maybe it was time for a trip to Corsain...

Title: Re: Tyr'riel - Twists of Fate
Post by: RollinsCat on September 30, 2011, 08:16:42 pm

To: Andrew Reid and Elohanna
c/o Silver Buckle Inn
165 Mariner's Hold
Docks District
Alindor

Dear Dad and Elly

So I'm living in Charlie's old room now.  Weird, huh?  It's like you guys traded kids.  Living in a cave is neat and I like it.  Always cool in here no matter how hot it is outside and Sir Daniel cooks a lot when he's home so I'm eating good, Elly.  You can send letters to me here.  I guess you know the address.

Sir Daniel's taken me on patrol a few times, he says I have the making of a good knight.  A knight, can you believe that?  Me, a knight of Rofirein.  But he seems convinced I got what it takes.  Well, maybe...

I don't know if Mother told you yet but you guys might be in trouble.  There's someone pretending to be her doing some pretty horrible things around Sagewald, like some village got slaughtered so keep a watch on who comes in the Buckle.  Makes me mad as the blazes but she asked me to stay out of it.  I saw her at Haven mines a little bit ago, she's with Laz again.  Poor guy.

Before you hear it on the grapevine yeah, I met a woman.  She's pretty amazing and we're just friends right now cause we're taking it slow.  Okay, so don't ask questions, if it gets there I'll bring her by, right?

Anyway, hi to everyone, you guys get a wedding date yet?  I need to get something nice to wear if I'm coming.  Hlint, right?

Oh, hey, while I'm thinking about it, if some guy, tall and middle-aged and maybe looking like a mage comes in with some little box, he's got a proper accent and seems really scholarly but he's also kind of a snot and rubs you the wrong way - if he takes out the little box and you sense shrinking magic, tackle him.  He's got a wyrm in there and he's using it to commit robberies.  Tell you how I know later.

Watch your backs


Ty


The pen is set down on Charlie's old desk, next to the inkpot.  His handwriting never looks as good as his father's.  His common script is cramped and he can't help it.  It looks better when he writes in elven.  With a shrug he leaves the ink to dry and hops up to his left leg, turning and falling onto the small bed.  He bounces a moment on landing and that brings a grin that fades almost immediately.

Stupid, lying mage.  He has to do something.  He knows someone who will help with the magic and that thought makes his heart skip a beat.  No, don't think about her, focus - task at hand.  Wyrms and mages.  Fixing the problem.  

Man, she's something.

Okay.  No thinking of her for...for as long as it takes for the candle to burn a quarter inch.  No stray thoughts.  Right.

So, he could set a trap, maybe something like a small event with wealthy people that are not adventurers, so the mage guy will feel bold.  What was his name again?  He closes his eyes, sets himself back in the Wild Surge, off to the side...to the mage's left, by the short wall leading to the kitchen.  The guy sits at the head of the table, has a book in front of him...that legend of the Broken Halls...introduces himself...J.C. Merkinson.  That's it.

He has to find out more about Mister Merkinson.  He has to trace the guy's movements, see if there's a pattern; if he's using boats or staying on land.  Maybe Tori and Iri already did that.  He'll ask.  They'd be good to have along.  Tori's wicked with that crossbow.  Then an ambush, grab the wyrm, get J.C. in jail, and...

...what do you do with a wyrm you helped capture in the first place?  Probably an angry wyrm?  Worse, one that might enjoy terrorizing people?  Well, Mel's song had captivated it, sort of, so maybe something like that would work again.  The thing was going to remember him.  He bet that was going to hurt.  Especially if he had to protect Fleur like he'd promised...

BLAST.  He looked at the candle - not a quarter inch gone, not even close.  Blast again.  She was in his head, maybe more places than that.  

Fine.  You want to think about her?  Then do it, and get it out of your system.

She was so cool to talk to.  She didn't see him as a kid.  She didn't call him kid, didn't ignore him, didn't give him that patronizing look when he made a bad decision in a fight - she just healed, or jumped in, and that was that.  She was smart, but that wasn't all.  She was pretty, but that wasn't all.  Or even most of it.

She understood him.  Pegged him right away, an old soul in a young body.  They had so much in common - both lost parents.  Both with a parent that was distant, and only felt close when doing something that parent liked.  Both of them, in a lot of ways, still escaping that.  

They both spoke elven.  He loved her accent when she enunciated.  They were both kind of silly inside, as their make-believe with Postmaster Freya's letter had shown.  He liked her laugh, especially when he'd explained why running had become his happy place.

Yeah, okay.  A run right now would be good - he'd run the letter to the bird man, and then run this crazy tension out of him.  Then come home, eat well, and take a bath, and start his plans to catch a crazy wyrm-wielding mage.

And think about her, probably.

Better make that a really cold bath.

Title: Re: Tyr'riel - Twists of Fate
Post by: RollinsCat on October 04, 2011, 03:33:48 pm

Holy smoking wow.  Wow, wow, wow.

Okay, the spells were good, that was good learning.  He died fast and fell hard.  He had to work on that.  

His mind was too easy to pry into.  He'd already applied a lot of stuff he'd picked up from Daniel, but it was still stupidly easy for her to dominate him.  Well, not that she had to try too hard.  Cause, wow.

So, he had to get better shape still.  Work on the intestinal fortitude.  Work on the discipline, closing off his mind to suggestions, that kind of stuff.  Just as soon as he could shake the lingering memory of her lips.

Right, not happening.  Next plan: go for a run and find a job.  G'ork's order was filled, plus a little, but that pay had all gone to his Angels debt.  Maybe someone needed a door in those crypts open for those bodak teeth?   He could do that.

He could still smell her.  He was still smiling, even though she'd killed him like six times in a row.  He'd die another six times if it got him kissed like that again.  Weirdest, best, most romantic date ever.  He still had their blood under his fingernails.

Title: Re: Tyr'riel - Twists of Fate
Post by: RollinsCat on October 16, 2011, 12:07:35 pm

Letters were out.  Charlie, Kat and Melody were in.  No response from Tori or Iri so maybe they didn't want in, but he'd ask if he saw them before.

No word from Fleur.

She was busy was all.  She'd get the letter eventually.  He was pacing.

Focus.  J.C.  Small time crook, mage.  Not some scholar, not some researcher into dragons or legends, at least that wasn't what made his coin purse clink.  A thief.  A thief with magical abilities and some twisted charisma.  And a pocket wyrm.  That they'd helped him get.  No guilt there, nope.  

What else.  Kicked out of school for bad conduct. Shrink and enlarge magic.  What countered that?  He needed Fleur, her knowledge and to bounce ideas off her.  He'd put that on the shelf for now and discuss it when he found her.

Okay.  His plan was basically the same.  Get a few more, enough to make a small party.  Respectable types, maybe that Riley guy, he had the look.  Dress up, put out fliers, borrow the Buckle, make it look like a fundraiser.  Should he tell his Dad?  Nah.  Forgiveness before permission, cause otherwise Elly would have a fit and then they'd be up in his business and gods he had enough of that with Mother lately.  She was like a friggin bad copper bit.

So borrow the Buckle when Dad and Elly were gone...were they honeymooning?  That'd be a good time.  Figure they could get any messes cleaned up before they got back, maybe...in case stuff went south.

What do you do with a shrunk wyrm?   Or worse, an unshrunk one?  He had to have a plan for that and he needed to know who was in so they could hash it all out and come up with contingencies.  Taking J.C. down was going to be hard enough, they had to do it fast, get the box before the wyrm got out.  Keep him alive maybe so they could turn him into the authorities...there had to be witnesses out there who would finger him for the inn robberies.  He wished he'd written the guy's name down that he, Tori and Iri had talked to that night by the fire in Center.  Deal with that later.  Get the rest of the team and have a sit down.  

At least this time it wasn't undead.  That girl, that cave, still bothered him.  The dusty old skeletons were bad, but at least they were something he'd seen before, inside Center's crypts, in Krandor.  The fresher dead were worse, the wights worse, the ghouls worse.  He hated those things.  But if he'd seen a kid shambling toward him still fresh enough to bleed red, gods, just the idea bothered him more than anything.  He wasn't too far off kid himself.  What would he do if it was someone he knew?

Thank Deliar and Toran he hadn't yet.  A few of the skeletons were child sized but it was easy to pretend they were just really short people or other races.  He didn't want to go there.

At least the ritual was stopped, they told the Leringard watch and all.  He got the very distinct feeling that the Blackwatch did not care and circular filed their report.  Good.  They wouldn't come looking for him later then.  Meantime?  He had a wizard to capture.  Or kill...

Title: Re: Tyr'riel - Twists of Fate
Post by: RollinsCat on October 23, 2011, 03:59:48 pm

"Beware of the one called Quill.  If you don't impress them, he may simply kill you for fun.  Befriend Spider if you can.  Silk will be watching you if you get close, but you'll never see her.  Masque you'll meet before you ever know who she is.

"Ori is, or was, their master.  Where the others each have their own mastery, he masters them all.  You will need to show promise to survive.

"There is another, an alchemist whose name escapes me.  Worry not about him, but do not ignore his skills.  Should you prove a waste of their time, his art may be your undoing."

In the end, she'd told him everything.  She'd promised to mark his map.  She'd given him some climbing spikes.  He'd given her the first set of lockpicks he'd ever made; she'd given him hers, which were better, tin, not copper.  It was more than he'd expected.

His family.  His parents, dead for twenty years; he knew he would not find them by looking for families gone missing, not even if he had a location.  But this?  Real information, names, things that help him directly?  Western Gate was pretty well mapped thanks to Samantha.  He had bits and pieces of other maps, some verbal descriptions of Corsain's wilds.  He had his mother's information.

He had a chance.

Title: Re: Tyr'riel - Twists of Fate
Post by: RollinsCat on December 13, 2011, 10:02:26 am

A long time with no focus and no reasons to do anything.  Mage gone to ground.  Money issues holding up his planned trip to Corsain - he kept getting involved in things that didn't pay.  That Jetta lady was right about one thing.  Get your fee up front.

The house was empty.  He never caught Tod home, Daniel was long gone on patrol.  Lana was around sometimes but not often.  Wayfare was quiet most days.  He traveled when he could justify the cost.  Months of this, working on his running and jumping and sneaking and feeling stagnant and itchy.  The flurry of events caught him by surprise.

Helping that little blue guy, the imp or whatever.

The trip to Alindor that ended up in a cave of lizards, chasing potatoes.  He was still wondering how that would end up.

The visit to Krelin's Inn that ended up with Miss Anna getting kidnapped.  Someone really needed to get in and do housecleaning on that crypt.  At least she was okay, and they finished their religious thing.  The story was nice.

A ship job - that one actually paid - with that pretty but ice cold woman with the white hair, and his sinking feeling he'd done something bad that he didn't understand.  And those @#$@# harpies.  Lucky he could dive and swim.

Getting stuck in Casein.  The saytrs.  Yeah, that sucked.  He'd been practicing his guitar again after that one.  Hope the pregnant lady is okay...

And finding out both Mother and Fleur were in trouble in Hlint.  Gods.  His mother, again.  It was like the controls that most people have, that little voice that says "is this really a good idea?" when you're doing something maybe stupid or dangerous, didn't exist in her brain.  Fleur was who he was worried about anyway, Mother seemed to have her own way of coping, and Fleur wasn't a killer by nature.  But his girl was tough - stood right up and took her lumps, and the adventurers in town mostly banded together and they got the kid back safe.  It was sort of a happy ending.  He wanted to know if the crazy baby stealer did kill the mother though.

And it bugged him, what he'd done.  He wanted to talk to Fleur about it but she'd fallen asleep pretty quick.  Lot of stress, lot of worry, and even though the guy was alive again, raised or whatever, she still had him on her conscience.  She twitched in her slumber as he compared himself again, running over lists in his mind.  Checking off similarities and looking for differences at the speed of thought.

Nature or nurture?

It was too late to be thinking about this.  He stretched out next to her and did some deep breathing.  They'd talk in the morning.  Maybe that Aesthir guy could get some traction on the woman's possible murder.  Miss Stacey would probably like to hear the gossip and he owed her a little.  Yeah.  In the morning...

Title: Re: Tyr'riel - Twists of Fate
Post by: RollinsCat on January 11, 2012, 02:15:39 pm

This dream wasn't the same.  The last one had felt so real...so there...he still didn't think he'd dreamed it.  Some of the same people were in this one, the Toranites Raelynn and Kian and the Lucindite guy.  This time not Armand though.  And this time the maze was hazy and dreamlike.  No one was asking them what they feared, which was good, because in the last dream the Toranites said they feared nothing and that's just stupid.  That's inviting the worst.  Not everyone in the group...dream...was ready to drop dead for their great leader.  

What do you fear?  He'd answered honestly.  If it was a dream, he'd learned something about himself.  If it wasn't, he'd shot an arrow into his own foot he was sure.

This dream was all mazes; Kian running ahead eager to fight, Rae praying, healing lights, missiles of pure magic zooming around and him trying to find a soft spot here and there on giants and ogres and orcs and then goblins, then dead goblins shambling toward them...dead things don't have vital spots and he started cussing as he pierced and slashed...

He woke with the same disorientation he'd felt months ago - where was he?  He was outside, why was he outside?  Who was sleeping next to him?

Okay, that last question was kind of new.  Fleur lay still, her breathing slow and even and her body relaxed.  He was supposed to be watching over her.  He'd flat passed out instead.  The pond was quiet, no wind to ripple the waters, and Haven was silent below them as the stench of re-deaded dead things rose on breezeless heat.

Sitting up, he checked her - physically she was fine, actually really pretty in her exhausted slumber.  Wrinkles lined her face where she'd used his clothing as a pillow and a smear of yellow pollen highlighted her right cheek.  A butterfly fluttered to her shoulder, found nothing sustaining, flapped once and glided away.  He stood as quietly as he could and snuck off into a corner to attend to morning needs.  Returning, she had rolled to her back, her eyelids moving under the strengthening sun.  He watched her until she woke.

--------------------

His feet pounded grass as he ran the edges of Haven.  Stinging heat and aches from his near-death of the previous day slowed him, the smell of old death and new death mixing with ashes and soot from the pyres made pushing himself impossible - he was coughing too hard and his body refused to accelerate past a decrepit jog.  He shouldn't be out here.  He should be with Gramps, making sure the old man wasn't doing anything stupid, but Gramma wasn't done yelling yet and he wanted none of that.  Fleur was taking some time to herself.  He lov...liked that about her.  She wasn't clingy.

Besides, running always helped him think.  He went over his conversations with Fleur and let his mind wander with them.  Funny how easy it is to be hard on yourself and kind to others.  How would he have felt if he'd lost it like that?  Or when, cause if he kept up what he'd been keeping up, he'd have his turn and a few more.  It's never like you can keep your cool all the time.  Kind of situational and all that bad magic is bound to mess with  your head.  Especially a caster's head.  Bad mojo.

Gramps was recovering; he'd taken his death in stride although Gramma was not so laid back about it.  Gramps saw killing the...vampires, was everyone's guess, since they were pretty solid and non-squishy and talkative for undead...as a job well done.  Ty wondered how much time the old man really had left and if he'd given any part of himself up in the fight.  Gramps wasn't saying.

So much weirdness.  He kept going back to that cave, that sacrificed girl, Mel's cursed harp and the skeleton bats, the undead that were popping up all over, that trip in the abandoned Gloomwoods town and that freakly little kid-thing.  She'd been so innocent, so scared, she'd held his hand.  Got him feeling really protective and then...what?  Just vanished?  Victim, or perpetrator?  Both made him feel sick inside.

Add to that yesterday in Haven, with the undead goblins and grimy skeletal remains barely held together by dried tatters of what had once been tendons yet still strong enough to tear him to shreds...something bad was coming at them, all of them, human and elf and halfling and dwarf and giant and dragon alike.  That much he believed.  And what could one average man do about it?

What indeed.  Dragging a beaten-up form in circles around a tense, frightened town wasn't helping anyone.  He could make sure nothing else was coming.  A quick dunk in Gramp's trough, wash the sweat off, let Fleur know what he was up to then he'd do some scouting.  It wasn't much, but it was something.  Her comment from late the previous evening popped into his mind.

"You never stop trying."  Yeah, and so long as she believed in him, he never would.  He stopped running altogether and walked, favoring his left leg, toward Shiff's house.

Title: Re: Tyr'riel - Twists of Fate
Post by: RollinsCat on May 16, 2012, 01:45:33 pm

So it was okay then.  She was okay, anyway.  They'd talked.  Been everything but...well, everything but.  So yeah.  Sucked, but it was okay.

Weird seeing her after so long, or maybe it just felt long because he'd been spending so much time building up his business.  Which was why they weren't together anymore; he never had time.  Yeah, if there was a next time, he'd have to be pretty upfront about it.  He imagined trying to get a date based on that unfortunate truth.

Available: One slightly scarred man, not really romantic but very loyal and a good worker.  Not around so much but will make the times I am count.  Won't charm your socks off but will bring home the bacon and smelt the pan to fry it up in.

Maybe women won't find him handsome, but they'll at least find him handy.

Enough.  Better things to think about: Jil, and what she's got him doing.  Tracking Vin'larie.  Going to be tough to avoid them but he's not the kind to blunder into danger.  Spellgard, the lady said, and he's running there now.  Actually running in between longer stretches of wagon rides to keep his speed up and just because he wants to.  Digging sand and clay is great for the upper body but not so much the rest of him and it's only four queen's miles between the last wagon stop and the next carriage hub.  He can run that easy.

It's a hot day.  He's pouring sweat, need to find a trough or something to clean off in before he boards.  Got to write Dad soon, update him on the hunt.  Got to ask if Mel's been okay too and no more skelly bats; maybe check on that place in Vehl.  Got a lotta got to's.  At least he's busy and he's selling molds and glass, and he's even got a permanent customer now, which brings him back to Jil.

Did she notice his pretty sad attempt?  She's way old, older than Fleur, what is it with him and older women.

Enough, give it up.  Think about something else, anything else.  How about - yeah, Aesthir, friggin' weirdo.  Guy had to know that he and Fleur were broke up, and still he kept watching, watching, like he could read skin and carve secrets out of flesh.  Aesthir had never warmed up to him, the only thing they had in common wasn't a link anymore...well, kind of, he guessed, since they were still friends - she'd touched his arm, been supportive.  "Since when do you give up?"

Yeah, so there was still Fleur, but.  Seriously.  He hadn't broken a single written-down law ever that he knew of so lawman could quit staring any time.  Weirdo.

So that didn't help.  He passes another milestone; two miles to go.  He wishes it was more.  It feels like half his adult life has passed in the last two years and he's tired of not getting anything done.  This time he's not screwing up.  This time, he's seeing it through.

Title: Re: Tyr'riel - Twists of Fate
Post by: RollinsCat on June 18, 2012, 01:15:15 pm

Some small coal chunks...some old necklace with bones - crazy.  A bit of ore dust.  That was it.  The sum total of his time in this place, mostly debris on the bottom of the one chest he used.  Nothing on the walls, nothing on the desk, nothing -

Oh, yeah, under the mattress.  Okay, get that cleaned up.

A last look.  The room said nothing about him, never had.  Maybe he'd have to decorate a little in whatever room he got next, but putting stuff up in Lana's house - well, Tod's house - never felt right.  He'd miss it a little though.  He liked the fireplace and the whole "living underground" thing.  The kid in him still grinned every time he walked through the cave mouth.  Some good times here, mostly with Fleur though, and talking to Daniel and sometimes Lana when she was home.  He'd miss it but they needed the space for Daniel's new charges.  And hey, Leringard, time for new vistas.  He'd be closer to shipping and that was good.  Dad had liked Miss Tyrian a lot and he had a lot of good memories from being a kid at the Twin Dragons.  And the Arms was close.  He'd be alright.

His backpack thumped hard before he remembered he had glass ingots in it.  He had a little longer to wait, he had to talk to Daniel, and it made him squirm.  He liked the old man.  Respected him.  Lying to him wasn't going to be fun or easy...but...was it lying to leave a few things out?  It wasn't exactly lying.  Just incomplete mission brief, that's it.

Yeah, it was lying.  Anytime he had to do mental gymnastics to get over his guilt it was lying.  But whatever, what he had to do had to be done, and it wasn't hurting anyone...he really hoped...or more likely it was an insane test.  It wasn't like they expected him to come back alive.  He wasn't crazy though, and nothing like Mother who'd charge in there alone.  He was taking some backup.  He planned to use it as exactly what he said - practice - because that's what it was.  And that little piece that he wasn't talking about?  No one needed to know.

Title: Re: Tyr'riel - Twists of Fate
Post by: RollinsCat on September 04, 2012, 01:07:11 pm

More weirdness and maybe, just maybe, some traction.  He wasn't feeling up to hoping yet but he had a remarkable coincidence to cogitate on.  Vehl, dungeons, undead, and...stuff he had to find, all in the same place...yeah.  And some friends willing to get in and get dirty with him too.  Good thing, he couldn't find Daniel.  He'd still have to keep his little side job quiet and that was going to be doubly a pain if both Rofierinites came along, although Sam wasn't too much of a problem, she knew when to hang back from being all clanky and stuff.  It was Naldin he was worried about.  Quietest dwarf ever.  That guy could trip him up.  He'd have to be real careful.  Least they might get to the end of Mel's skelly bat problem - that'd be worth doing just so she'd be able to walk around not invisible again.

What was it with all the undead lately?  Mel's thing, the Haven thing that had tried to get Grandpa, more rumors from around Vehl, and that Von Trout dude in Mariner's and his necromancer neighbor - why the guy waited until the zombies were stomping on his garden gnomes to complain he didn't know but whatever, necromancer woman was in custody.  He felt kind of bad for banging her head into the walls until she was knocked out but wading through more moldy bodies had worn on his last nerve.  Can't summon if you're unconscious.

And, even better, Von Fishy was out whatever he'd wanted from that little encounter.  Something about the way the fat noble had kept upping the ante on payment for the necromancer...necromancet?  Did ladies who summoned undead get a different name?  Whatever.  Something about Von Trout had tripped his wire and he felt right marching her off to jail instead of handing her over to him.  His "ain't right" sense was getting better.  He wished it’d gone off when he'd helped to capture that drake.

He turned and caught a last glance at the slender woman with the incredibly long black hair and his sense went off again.

"I see potential in you".  

Yeah, great, I've screwed up everything I've ever touched.  But something in her voice, the way she moved and fought, the way she watched him...he didn't know the game yet but it felt good to think that someone was interested and he'd enjoy it except she scared the bedeliar out of him, always had.  Wasn’t that she was older; Fleur was older, didn’t matter.  Wasn’t that she was a better fighter then he was either.  Just something, some internal honesty maybe?  He wanted to impress her and that was his problem.  He was a screw-up aside from his business and he couldn’t get past it.  But he still wanted her to see something in him that he didn't and it was hard to decide if he believed her or not because he wanted to, a lot.  It was so weird compared to talking to Sam, say, who didn’t make him uncomfortable, she just let him talk, gods, he’d talked a lot that night.  Trusted her though, that felt cool.  Then again he didn’t have anything to hide really.  

It was different with Jetta.  He was afraid and at the same time drawn in, and it was like someone was strumming his tripwire inside and...aw, man, he knew he was going to talk to her again.  Stupid, stupid, stupid.  He knew it was stupid because he knew, without even asking himself, that this was something his dad probably shouldn't know about.

Gods, focus, Ty.  Got a job to do, two really, maybe three all stacked.  Mark your spot, get your stuff ready, remind yourself why you're doing this.  Hope that they're still in Corsain when you get back, trying to find them again would be a pain, and don't let your mother know.

Voices from a long-ago dream.

"What are you afraid of?"

"Of becoming her."

Title: Re: Tyr'riel - Twists of Fate
Post by: RollinsCat on September 08, 2012, 02:12:04 pm

Yeah...what was that about traction?

Idiot.

His calm expression might as well have been tattooed on.  The woman strode ahead and he had to scurry to keep up, which only made him feel more like a kid who'd gotten caught in a tantrum.  Well, he had thrown one back there - it'd seemed like a good idea at the time, all those people helping, except then there was the charging forward, and the vampires shaking everyone up, and when they'd all been dragged back from the brink of death and possible zombieism and started scattering...he lost it.  Okay, lesson learned - he wasn't a leader type.  That was now abundantly clear.  

No more, never again.  He wasn't stuck on working alone, sometimes, a lot of times, you need backup, but...but he'd failed.  He'd made a stupid bad suggestion and didn't give good intel and they'd all nearly died for it.  Lesson learned.  The red rock currently making him more than a little uncomfortable meant it wasn't a total failure, but Silk had seen it all.  He knew she had.  And they'd lost the chance to find out who was behind it, the undead, the skelly bats, the attacks...his "diversion" had tipped whoever that was off.  Stupid, Ty.  Worst decision ever.

He had his suspicions though.  He'd heard drake wings, seen drake outlines in that center room.  There was no way out of that miserable wet bottom level unless...unless, the drakes were illusion - possible, he still wasn't great at seeing through those - or they'd been shrunk and left with their owner.  Cord had sensed conjuration.  Drakes vanishing into thin air, conjuration...someone portalling out.  Two letters.  J. and C.  And, gone, because of his suggestion.  Lesson learned.

The woman turned down an alley and he blinked into awareness enough to realize they were threading through the city on what felt like a random pattern.  Were they near the temple?  Oh gods, don't let Aesthir see him.  Please, Deliar, don't let Aesthir see him being...

...wait.  He wasn't under arrest, she'd asked for him to come with her.  Why an envoy from Driran wanted to talk to him he had no idea but he wasn't under arrest and he didn't have to slink behind like a sulking child.  He lengthened his stride and put enough hustle in his step to catch up to her on the right and kept the pace up.  There.  If he's seen, he's walking as an equal or a guest, not a criminal.  Better.

Yeah, not a criminal.  He had some explaining to do to Samantha, and he'd have to chew on the story to see how to make it easiest to digest.  He didn't feel like lying to her but he couldn't tell her the whole truth so...enough, enough to satisfy her.  He kind of liked talking to her.  Didn't want to "make her regret not arresting him..."  

And Cord, and Mel, both he'd upset.  He had no idea Cord would get so cranked over him picking a lock, he'd have to apologize and see if that went over.  Mel'd given him some suspicious looks more than a few times so there was some explaining to do there, and make sure he told everyone the same story...he'd have to apologize for getting them all killed, too.

And then there was Naldin.  He threw a look over his shoulder just to be sure the dwarf wasn't there.  Man, that guy was quiet, and seemed to be right there whenever he turned around.  Not in the smirking, taunting way that Aesthir was but just...there.  Watching, or more like not watching in a very watchful way.  And the dwarf was good.

Not there...least he couldn't see him.  The back of his neck itched.

Why did someone from Driran want to talk to him?  It was bugging him but he had to keep up the pretense so no questions, just a casual stroll to wherever.  Interrogation?  This way led to the temple, he was sure.  Story, what's his story...okay, just stay with the Mel cover.

'Yeah, so, my friend, she's this gnome bard lady, was getting hassled by undead bat things and we found out she had a cursed harp but not before some woman attacked her with magic from the walls of Fort Vehl.  We tracked them back to that door, harp we turned over to the temple, we reported the door and then got some people together to go in for a look.

'Rord opened the door for us'...better just blend that in and not mention that bit was all Samantha.  Or that he'd picked the lock.  'We found a ton of undead, mixed kinds, skellies and wrappers and vamps and even a toother - so we got to the bottom and there were a lot of vamps, I think we counted like eight or ten bodies, one of 'em was a female with some serious magical casting abilities so maybe that was the woman who was casting on us, don't know.  Better ask Mel, she might remember more.  

'Right, so then there was three doors and I didn't want to tip off whoever was in charge of the undead so I asked 'em to divert attention while I snuck into a room maybe to catch the evil guy by surprise and that didn't go so well...the group died.  Some real tough zombies down there.  So we got 'em all fixed up, Cord stayed on her feet too, and I did scouting and found the room and the one beyond empty so my own stupid decision was responsible for their escaping.'  True, all of that.  Better just get it out up front, soak some blame.  Didn't want anyone else getting arresting, in case.

Could Driran get him arrested for actions in Vehl?  Wait, were his original parents from Driran?  How'd they know to find him?

Had one of the others told them?  Silk?

Back on target.  The story, right.  'Found a chest with some weak traps, I could take care of those but not pick the lock'...good, play yourself down.  'So I cleaned up the traps and shook it, nothing.  Figure they either emptied it when they bolted or set a nastier trap inside, so I left it.

'Then we found some bad, real bad magic in one room and the bard Cord said conjuration and maybe portal magic in the big end room.  Oh, yeah, and I saw drakes before, so lemme tell you about this guy J.C. Merkinson...'

Sounded about right.  That was his story and he was sticking to it.  

It'd been a near disaster.  The chest had the Eye; otherwise he'd be beating himself with both fists over how much he'd screwed up.  How did Paddy do it?  Keep a family, be liked, and still do the side jobs?  How did anyone?  He didn't want to be a complete loner...like, Jetta, she balanced things, maybe she was mercenary but Dad still seemed to like her and Elly.  And she was good too, light on her feet...maybe...he needed a new teacher.

Another twist in the road, from the woman he was now walking beside and in the winding paths across his heart.  Yeah, he'd be looking Jetta up.  Lessons needed to be learned.

Title: Re: Tyr'riel - Twists of Fate
Post by: RollinsCat on September 09, 2012, 08:03:08 pm

"...was that Scrandon boy in the chickens again!  And don't you know the husband's still tryin' to convince me it was orcs, the lying bugger..."

"Doon't tell me twas him, that boy's a menace!  Might as well be an orc then."

"Isn't he though!  Can't wait until we pick up and head for Hempstead, honestly, this place.  Why just this morning..."

The voices floated on, heading to the animal pens.  The crafting hall was to his right and the shadow from Center's bindstone ran parallel to him; west.  It was mid-morning.  He'd lain here quite a while.  No one had stopped to check on him.

It makes him wonder which was a good excuse as any to not think about what'd happened.  He'd lain here and all his stuff was still with him; probably the only thing that had prevented him from being cleaned out was the time of day and his proximity to trading tents and the hall.  Center was so weird.  Those ladies had walked right by him.  Bindstones in a place really mess with people's empathy...a guy lying unconscious by a stone was just another day.  

He checked again.  All there - no, one thing was missing.  The Eye was gone.  She'd been searching him even as he died.

Oh gods, what had he done?  Who was he supposed to trust?  Silk had witnessed all that he was sure.  He prayed right there on his back, to Deliar because it couldn't hurt, that she was a better sneak than a liar.  Please, god of merchants and luck, let her see exactly what we wanted her to see.  Please.  Let her tell them he was just another failure and there was no point in pursuing him.  Or anyone he cared about.

His back was wet from dew and he was cold.  He could mope somewhere dry.  Rolling over was slow; he had to flop.  He kept running his hands over the right side of his neck.  Gods that was a feeling that would stay with him.  Never forget that, nope, and not lining up to do it again.  

A long few minutes later he had made it to the campfire, currently unoccupied.  He should go off and start his own, away, but he kind of wanted company, even though he didn't.  Well, maybe the right kind of company.  Maybe.

So...lessons learned.  He avoided the big thoughts for now and went over what had gone down inside and outside the Harpy.  First, Queen's Guard to Regina Starphire or not, Chiamoto Katherine had to learn to be subtle.  He wasn't sure she'd even caught on in the end.

Chiamoto, Katherine.  Tilmarian.  Like -

Moving on.  So, Oni and crew were thieves who worked for the highest bidder.  Okay.  His mother hadn't picked up on that, or hadn't cared.  No, he was being unfair - his mother was...um, not always the plan-ahead type but she wasn't...okay she was, but she wasn't a criminal by nature...well, okay, not because she meant to be.  Just one big accident, mostly.  Or series of them.  But she wasn't going to join up with thieves just to make coin.  Not the style she fancied of herself.  So she'd missed it, and even though he'd kind of sensed something wrong, he'd not wanted to know because of what he'd gone there seeking.

Don'tgotheredon'tgotheredon'tgothere.

Lessons.  He had ignored his gut instinct - bad.  Don't do that unless you have to.  Okay that wasn't normally as much of a problem, so that didn't fixing so much as a stern talking to.  Right, next; leadership.  He sucked at it.  Wasn't going to be something he could do a lot about, he was a quiet, pox-faced kid, not Charisma Man.  His dad could have that crown.  Not that he wouldn't lead, but pick your battles, right?  It wasn't his strong spot so buff up but don't get hung up.  Better things to worry about.

Like intel.  Yeah, that needed some help.  He hadn't told Kat and the group enough about the undead, or snuck far enough around the room; his fault.  So let their deaths hang on his head.  Still had to apologize for that.  What else...he hadn't even tried to figure out Oni's group.  Could maybe do that by checking town crime records and piece together based on what he knew about their capacities...yeah, that would be a start.  Because he was not betting that they'd go "aw shucks, stupid kid" and leave him be. Nope.  They'd find him again.  Even if they thought he'd just screwed up, he cost them money.

"They'll take the Eye and kill you afterward."  Chiamoto hadn't been bluffing or was the best liar ever.  Given her straightforward manner, he wasn't putting money on the latter.  She was on the up and up.  He got the sweats again thinking about it - standing in the One-Eyed Harpy, knowing that Silk was there, hearing everything, watching him find out word by word that he'd backed the wrong horse.  Did Chiamoto really expect him to just say "yeah, here you go, here's the dangerous artifact, thank you so much for setting me on the path to goodness and clean thoughts?"  Seriously.  He'd tried every subtle way he could to say "we're being watched".  And in the end, knowing he was going to fail one way or the other, grabbed at the most desperate solution he'd ever come up with.  There was an old quote that had run through his mind right before he'd stepped, belligerent, into Chiamoto's personal space; "He who doesn't fear death dies only once."  He feared death, all right, but he feared failure more.  He'd failed enough.  Sometimes, maybe, with skill and a bit of luck, dying might mean success.

Please, Deliar.  I'll so owe you.

So he'd told her she'd have to kill him to get what she wanted, in the barest whisper he could, hoping the bar noise would cover it from Silk's ears.  With the eyes shifting around and bluffing it up with his posture and tone as a threat.  It seemed she'd taken the bait and left and he knew he couldn't follow - he had to at least pretend to be escaping, so he found a back window and tried to slip out.  By the condition of the sash and lock like hundreds before him.  Thing was, he had to be caught.  The whole gambit wouldn't work unless she did find him and kill him, so he had to make like he accidentally stepped on something noisy, and accidentally making noise when you were noted for being extremely quiet on your feet was a trick.  He was pretty sure he'd pulled it off though.  It was one of his better whupses and his expression and body language sold it.

He'd done okay "fighting" her too.  Especially because he couldn't tell if she was faking; she was a lot better with her sword than he was with his, but maybe that worked for him.  Maybe Silk would take that into consideration plus that he wasn't a frontside fighter.  He'd bluffed his moves as well as he could and even drew some blood before Chiamoto had kicked him off his feet, ironically when he was pulling off his own bluffed fall so it could not have been more perfect.  And the she'd dropped that box on his chest and asked him to put the Eye in it, and he'd refused, tried to get away, she'd started searching him, he'd had to whisper "Just kill me already, before anyone I care about suffers for this.  Thanks."  

And she had.  One slice on the right side of his throat straight through the jugular.  

His stomach flipped.  Bleeding out was...not something he wanted to do again.  It was slow.  You had time to think.  He was blinking up at the sky when she found the stone, barely conscious and in shock when she blocked the sun - all fuzzy, his vision wasn't right by then - and spoken.  "Your parents are Lawrence "Snarky" Tormey and Rebecca Whitman, of Tilmar.  Oni killed them."  And then the light came back for just a second, and then it went away.  And then he woke up here.

He was cold inside and his throat was freezing up.  Don't go there!  What else!  Anything else!  Bindstone, what about...yeah, so strange, his soul felt intact and he'd been taken by the stone.  He'd heard about dying deliberately so that you didn't return, you could die, but guess you had to want to.  When he'd gotten that first cold inside, and dizzy as Chiamoto had jostled him searching his body, he'd been clinging to life.  He hadn't wanted to die.  That must be it...he'd played his hand, but he was faking.  He didn't want to die.  Horrible way to go, not his first choice.  He'd heard drowning was worse though...

...the names would not stop echoing and he rested his face in his hands and let them in.  Lawrence.  "Snarky" - his biological father probably hadn't been a Rofie, then.  Maybe that's why he had such good control over his body, why he was so quiet.  

Oh gods, he was Tilmarian, not Corsainian.  Like Dad.  How weird was that?  One of his biological parents was a native, maybe both, he didn't look mixed.  Did they have Tilmarian names too?  Dad's was Takeshi.  What would Rebecca's have been?  Did they have any other kids?

Rebecca.  That's a pretty name.

He was crying.




//thanks to Osx.  Worth waiting for.

Title: Re: Tyr'riel - Twists of Fate
Post by: RollinsCat on September 23, 2012, 12:48:47 am

He's in Bydell when the letter comes.  Books open all around him, notes he's taken - in elven, he's always preferred it to common, even if he's still learning the nuances of their alphabet and will be for the rest of his life.  Scrolls too, he can't be ignorant of magic even if it's not in his blood to use it.  And now a letter.

Driran?  For him?  Elly's note is short and to the point, and she writes to him in elven.  She's always done that, remembers he likes it.  Something he appreciates about her.

Official seal, she says, got to come open it himself.  Really?  This could be good, this could be...very bad.  He's heard the term 'burning curiosity' and for the first time he feels it.  Scrolls are returned under the watchful eye of Aragenite lore keepers, the rare and delicate books placed back on their shelves, and what he's learned is rolled up in a sheet of goat skin and stuffed into a pocket.  

He unstuffs it a second later and re-folds the vellum.  It's important he can read it later, can't let the ink bleed.  He's addressing his weakness head-on with this trip.  Well, two of them, really; the snake's venom has worn off though.  He takes the bites, digging sand in the desert, and lets them weaken him.  Catches the snakes when he can and milks them, and poisons himself a little bit, every few days.  It sucks, no way around that, but seems he'll either get tougher at resisting it or die, and so far, he's still alive.  Kinda sick though.  But he'll get better.

And intel.  He just doesn't know enough.  Have to remedy that, which is why he's here now and smelling faintly of dust and parchment mold.  A lot of notes on Driran, on Corsain, on Tilmar.  Towns.  Trade routes.  Notorious persons.  Anything that will give him a clue to "Snarky" and Rebecca, and Oni, and how they intersected.  He'd told them, told Oni and Silk, he wasn't coming for revenge.  Now, he isn't as sure...

He's outside, moving fast and quiet to the horse pens where you can usually find a driver going somewhere.  Dropping by the bird merchant to let Elly know he's coming, not all that far away.  Heart pounding a little.  

Driran.  For him.

Title: Re: Tyr'riel - Twists of Fate
Post by: RollinsCat on October 15, 2012, 10:50:51 pm

Juliana has been breathing slow and deep for an hour.  He's still awake.  He wasn't kidding when he told her it was the cleanest floor he'd ever slept on; not even a dust mouse under the bed.  He hears her shift above him, wonders again what the price of taking her up on her offer would be.  She's really nice looking and he hasn't...uh...well, not since Fleur.  But then he'll leave at some point and she'll be assigned as someone else's courtesan and he's not into that, and he's not yet convinced she's not a slave of some sort and it bugs him. A lot.
 
Curling his knees toward his chest, he rolls to his feet and stands, then gets his backpack from the dresser.  He has an extra blanket, he can rig up a tent thing and get some light going and maybe not wake her; he wants to look over his notes.
 
Someone did go through his pack.  Everything is in the same place but just a little off, not put back like he does it.  That doesn't bug him as much as the maybe-slave thing except they could have searched his pack in front of him instead of sneaking...so maybe that bugs him a little too.
 
And being locked in his room when he's not escorted.
 
He tucks one edge of the grey wool blanket under the mattress, slowly so not to wake Juliana, and rolls the other edge under his body.  There.  Pup tent.  The hardest part is lighting the candle and he cheats; he still has that desert flower Fleur gave him, the one with the fire enchantment on it.  The petals flame, rimmed in wisps of yellow-gold heat, barely strong enough to light a wick.  Any more powerful an enchantment and the flower would burn to ashes, she'd said.  But it's a handy way to avoid making noise.
 
He leafs through notes scribbled from the library in Bydell and from talking to people on the way to the castle; he'll add his new observations later.  They might snoop again.  Oh, hells, he's written all his notes in elven - and now they either know or suspect he can read and write it.  Idiot!  Stick to common!
 

Driran

Used to be part of Dragonsong Dominion, broke off in 1408, not as uptight on Dragonsong Code or rules or law in general.  Big on self-sufficiency.  Divine Court when it's needed.
 
Elena Starphire, Regina, took over from her dad Hector who was head of prefecture when it was still part of Dragonsong.  Lived in monestary?  Hires a lot of elves?  People on the road seem to like her.  "The Benevolent".  Has brothers and sisters that do the other family stuff.
 
Lots of elves in Driran.  Whole island messed up by Bloodstone except where the elves live.

Lot of regional autonomy.  Good roads, good navy.


On paper, pretty cool.  Then there is...this.  Her, up on the bed, living in this castle since she was seventeen, told to lay with men she doesn't know as a service to a crown she wasn't born under.  Chosen, but did not choose.  Juliana sacrifices for her parents and it feels wrong to him.  And that lady, handmaid or chambermaid or whatever they call them, Steffani D'Avain.  Avaine, Arvain...yeah, should have written that one down.  Juliana seems afraid of her.  Made him promise not to tell that he was sleeping on the floor, since it is against protocol.  He knows D'Avain is not happy that Juliana isn't "doing her job" of entertaining him.  Well, hey, maybe I don't want to be entertained!

Okay, yeah he does, a lot, but not like this.  He'd said it - he is girlfriend kind of guy and this just isn't right for him.

Add to that Silk - Melanie, that was her name.  Man, he'd almost lost it when he finally recognized her.  She'd tried to shake him off the job back when he'd seen her in the hideout, and here she was, standing by the Regina of Driran kingdom.  Maybe she knew something then, or maybe she didn't think he had the stuff.  But he'd never picked up that she was an agent.  Finding out it was her who had talked the bandits into allowing Mother to take him - he owes Silk his life, his whole life.  It overwhelms him again, he wonders if it will get easier to think about or if he'll always feel like he's on a ship in a storm when that thought passes by.

The Regina seems alright at least.  Aside from having to say her title after every bugging sentence, which is clumsy and weird.  And aside from her offer to let him kill Oni.  

Oni.  His hands are shaking, he blows out the candle stub and rolls up the notes.  The rustle of parchment on parchment is deafening in the darkness but Juliana doesn't move.  The tent makes him feel like he's eight years old again, waiting for a letter from one of his parents while he struggles to speak and write a language that is hard sometimes even for the race it was created by and to please people who are born knowing he's inferior to them.  He rips the blanket down without caring if he wakes her.  

A sigh, a flip, then nothing from the mattress.  Okay, then.

Oni's sightless, decapitated stare is stuck in his mind but not because it per say bothers him.  He's a blade, or thinks he is, and while death isn't his first or fifth choice, he can deal it and deal with it.  No..."I die with my honor".  What the man said and what he didn't say, that was the splinter he couldn't reach.  Oni said he'd always followed orders.  That he didn't remember Lawrence, "Snarky", or Rebecca.  That Silk was a traitor, but maybe that was because Silk turned him in.  That he was told to hire the pox-marked kid.  Following orders.  Just a job.  That they would betray him as Oni had been betrayed.  But one question went unanswered each time he asked it and he still didn't know: Just following orders, but WHOSE?

Cause something feels off here in Driran castle.

Or the whole thing is a test...he is starting to feel the heaviness of sleep finally but his mind keeps churning.  Silk.  Oni.  The whack of the headsman's axe, making him twitch.  Queens who keep prostitutes to entertain their guests and ask crazy questions.  The Regina had asked him if he was ready to swear an oath to Driran!  Well, no, sorry lady but this is the first date, let's get some time under our belts before we shop for curtains.  And then she assigns him to train with Chiamoto, Katherine in the morning like she didn't hear his protest, and here he is on the floor hoping for daylight so he can start trying to figure out what the hells is going on.  

So much more to think about.  He really has to write it down...in the morning, yeah...

Title: Re: Tyr'riel - Twists of Fate
Post by: RollinsCat on October 30, 2012, 10:14:55 pm

"It's alright.  Got some 'quipment from the capitol just the other day, shovels and the like, for turning this cursed soil.  We're making do."

"Yeah?  Kinda seems like a nice place to live, actually.  Been thinking about it myself."

"Not bad, lad.  Not bad 'tall.  I wouldn't trade it for a hundred West Gates or Huangjins.  Least here, our royalty cares."

"Thanks, that's my wagon out.  Luck to you."

"You too, lad."

The browned old man flips his spade over and returns to digging.  The wagon that the younger man is now chasing is indeed his ride out, he's headed to Eastern Gate.  This village is just one along his self-imposed quest to figure this kingdom out - at least superficially.  'Cause, he won't be figuring it out any other way, he's been kicked out the castle.

"You really need to swear fealty to her, you know."

All he knows, as he slings a leg over the back and takes up his guard position, is that it would have been stupid to do so.  There is no way anyone working for any important person would be so easy with their loyalty unless they didn't mean it, or were born and bred to give it.  He is neither.  But he's also here, his "training" brought to an abrupt halt and his stay ended instantly.  

A woman on the wagon starts sneezing and her hand-muffled 'choos punctuate his thoughts.

Oni.  Watching him die - right off the freaking bat, 'here's what you'll get'.

Silk - double agent, right there to let him know he was being watched.  Maybe watching him now, for all he knows.  She's gonna be bored.

All that pressure for fealty after seeing Oni get his head chopped off and knowing the rest were dead.  

And...Juliana.  Gods he'd missed that - he took her at face value.  Didn't even occur to him she was some kind of spy for the crown.  Would she really have slept with him?  She's good, but he's a sucker for a sad woman.  Gotta fix that.  Push the blonde out of his head and focus on the lean woman with the crazy long black hair.  No doubt she'd cry if she had to, and no doubt she'd have slit his neck if he'd drunk her tea.  Good thing it was a demonstration and not...man.  He spends a couple moments rubbing his neck.  He hasn't forgotten and doubts he ever will.

Bow out, scanning for movement in the trees.  The hay wagon rocks on wheels that need mending but beggars and choosers.  No one else is willing to take a chance on a guy with no real credentials and no one else is lining up to guard a bunch of animal feed, even if it is scarcer than it used to be.  The driver sneaks a few looks at him and seems satisfied he's not going to attack the man's grown son and daughter in the wagon with him, or at least decides to keep his eyes on the dirt path.  Which is good 'cause the left rear wheel's band is slipped enough that it looks like it might come off.

He's already talked to them and a few others, and some in the village before that, and around the castle.  Same thing.  Mostly happy, struggling with the famine but no one thinks ill of their monarch.  Funny that, there's no handouts - but the crown will distribute means such as shovels for gardening or more often knowledge.  A nation led by a doer, not a talker.  A nation, at least what he's seen of it, that aren't rising up in rebellion real soon.  Pretty nice folks actually.  He's keeping an ear for the underground, there always is one, but whoever deals in shady places keep themselves good and hidden here.  Too much light.  

And he got kicked out.  Great.

Mostly what he's seen are those who keep their family fed from the small garden plots that seem to do better than big crops, those who do daily labor for barter or sometimes coin.  Eastern Gate promises a lot more.  City, big city for this small kingdom, with a long history and a reputation that would make a Xeenite smile.  Might be something interesting there to learn, yeah...some way to decide, or at least salve his indignation.  Let him go home in peace.  

But not to find a nice wife and raise fat babies, lady.  Forget it.  The masked guy has a lot more in store and he's ready to dive in and see how far that iceberg goes.  And...stranger...he feels stronger inside.  He's made a decision and stuck to it, and more, he knows he's right.  This time, he's right.

Title: Re: Tyr'riel - Twists of Fate
Post by: RollinsCat on November 09, 2012, 10:59:53 pm

It's not real yet.  Maybe not real at all.  He reads it again, although he doesn't have to.


Tyr'riel,

By order of the Queen, secure all other activities and proceed immediately to Eastern Gate. Befriend and collect intelligence on Marcus Blandorf, who is believed to be involved with transferring materials to an agent of the Dragonsong kingdom. Upon obtaining sufficient proof of these activities, use all means at your disposal to eliminate the threat to the Kingdom.

Report the results to the Keep upon completion. Destroy this letter after reading and understanding its contents.

K. C.


A wrist flick toward his campfire and the creamy yellow parchment withers black, then grey.  A burp of ash and it's gone.

He has no idea what's going on.  He quit...didn't he?  Refused to swear fealty?  Or did they think it is his ploy against walls with ears?  Is it?  If so, he owes his subconscious a talking to.  Eastern Gate is within sight.  This puts a crimp in some of the leisure activities he is failing to work up the courage to engage in, but it does provide a more specific reason to be dilettanting around...and yet...

Two things.  One, the families in Dragonsong who would like Dririan back under the Dominus's thumb number many, his research laid those tensions out loud and clear, so this could be a real mission - except - two, Chiamoto, Katherine should have reversed her initials.  He'd have got it.  He was raised by a Huangjinite, after all.

So what is he being set up for, and by who?

Title: Re: Tyr'riel - Twists of Fate
Post by: RollinsCat on January 23, 2013, 09:19:10 am

Two ox carts almost run him over.  His fault.  He's standing half in the street gawking.  Partly at the unusual cleanliness of...everything, partly at the richly appointed manses that adorn the long road sloping up and away from the sprawling Eastern Gate docks, and partly at the women.  Well...a lot at the women.  There are a frelling bunch of them, some in glass windows fanning themselves, some strolling the cobbled sidewalks, all of them bedecked in jewels, scented with oils, powdered and kohled.  Hard to tell who's being friendly and who's being real friendly, but he's not here for that.  

Man's gotta look, though.

Alright, enough.  A sudden bluster yanks his hood back, a bluster that promises more where that came from, and he heads for shelter.  The nearest tavern has a wolf with neck carved in a graceful upward arch under the words on the shingle.  Howl at the Moon.  Weird name but whatever, it's a start.  The wind tugs the edges of his new brown poncho before the oaken doors shut with a softer thump than their heft would indicate.  Heads turn but look away almost immediately.  Nothing interesting to see.  Just another customer.

The bar itself runs center, long and darkly varnished wood and brass.  The room is painted midnight blue with a big orpiment moon on the far wall.  The bartender glances up, takes a look at the latest arrival, and returns to his business.  The burly hands tap and pour and mix even as the man's flat brown eyes scan the room.  He's good, this one.  Probably not much mischief goes on in here.  The patrons are better dressed, quieter.  Yeah, this is a good place to begin.

He slips onto a stool at the bar and orders an ale; all the high tables out in the room have at least one person seated.  That's cool, he wants to overhear and this spot is better for that purpose anyway.  Setting his pack between his legs and dropping low-denomination coins on the bartop, he sits and sips and listens.  For news, for rumors, but mostly for one name.  Marcus Blandorf.

Title: Re: Tyr'riel - Twists of Fate
Post by: RollinsCat on January 23, 2013, 09:20:18 am

"We know Katherine sent you here with us, at first as a decoy, but she knows that Marcus doesn't know you.  I was made.  He has someone on the inside, someone important.  Someone sold us out, coin outweighed loyalty to the crown."

"Let's just say I am in the process of getting together a small organization that is going to add another  to the pile we stared."

"These are real threats, Ty, you will be disavowed if things do not work in your favor, this is extremely dangerous.  Katherine didn't ask you here, the Regina did.  We can't trust anyone now."

Title: Re: Tyr'riel - Twists of Fate
Post by: RollinsCat on January 23, 2013, 09:33:08 am

Lot to think about.  Some stuff immediately at hand and he's headed to Bydell again to bone up on things he's only looked at in passing, but waaaay more than just that.  Equality.  The point was made, and he had his first epiphany standing there listening.  

She values you.  She needs your approval.

Click.

Yeah, okay.  So that makes him think - first about himself.  Whose approval does he need?  His father's?  Nope.  He loves his dad but doesn't really want him know what he's doing, just wants to enjoy the old man's company once and a while and the fact that someone cares about him for him.  That's cool, he likes that.  So, his mother?  That's answered before he can finish thinking it.  No, he doubly doesn't want his mother to know what he's doing because she might try to butt in or worse, protect him.  Viper ain't wrong.  She's not.

And Viper?  Nope.  If anything he kind of likes annoying her, which is childish but there it is.  He'll settle on not being her enemy and that's that.

Steel?  Okay, kinda, maybe.  Yeah, a little.  He's responding as a student, and although he was never teacher's pet, it's nice to really learn something.  Work on that.  See it for what it is, not for what you want it to be.  Give it time.

The Regina.  Hm.  Yeah, that's sticky.  In the end, they'll both die, though, and her crown won't save her.  It makes him think about power and what it really is, and what fealty means.  It's more than a death sentence for treason.  It means you value something enough to put it first among all things.

So...is he lying?

Title: Enigmas and Pinkies
Post by: RollinsCat on January 28, 2013, 01:03:39 am

"We know Katherine sent you here with us, at first as a decoy, but she knows that Marcus doesn't know you. I was made. He has someone on the inside, someone important. Someone sold us out, coin outweighed loyalty to the crown."

Frakking hells.  

It goes down nothing like what he thought.  He's been haunting bars all over Eastern Gate, just another guy in a backdrop of mercenaries, travelers, and down-on-their-lucks.  Weeks, weeks to find the place his quarry prefers.  Another few days of scoping it out - the Flaming Phoenix - until today, finally, Deliar flashes him a grin and his prey saunters in.  The bartender confirms, takes a little coin for that, risky but he's on the clock.  Has to make a move to find his mark.  

Marcus Blandorf is an elf.  Can't be his real name.  Cocky, cold, calculating - maybe a little crazed, remains to be seen.  Ty sets himself up, drinking at the end of the bar nearest the elf's table, reading job fliers while the bar crier's off getting sozzeled.  Hey, look at me.  I can read and I'm for hire.

Works, at least it gets Marcus's attention.  He's invited to the table.  Chatting, what brings you here, you lived here long.  He plays mercenary but keeps it close to home; an embellishment here, a little lie there.  He's here to find work because the famine's gotten too bad on Mistone and Alindor.  

Bad planning on the part of the hungry, says Marcus.  The rich won't starve.

Food's tight enough that even money won't get you fed like before, he says.  He's a working man, there any work here in Eastern Gate?  

Mercenary work, guard work -

- he isn't interested.  He's a finesse guy.  

That catches Marcus's attention.  He puts up a little test.  "I'm going to go to my room.  Let me know if anyone takes an interest in my movements."

A confident stride to a room past the bar and oh, yeah, someone stands up.  He nearly chokes on his ale.  The kimono, the golden hair, the curves...Juliana.  She's at a table with a dark-haired woman who has her back to him.  Juliana glides along, down the hall past the room and back.  He's gonna have to throw her under a wagon.

Marcus returns. "Did anyone take an interest?"

Yep.  He describes Juliana in detail, the dress, the hair, the...well, all of it.  Which he could have seen a lot more of if he wasn't such a noble son of a bard when it came to snogging and the lot.  

Marcus isn't privy to his internal dialogue and comes right out with an offer.  "Charm her, woo her, and take care of her.  Bring me something to prove it's done, a finger, a toe, maybe one of those beautiful eyes..."  Well, he's paraphrasing a bit.  Bloody hells...and sure as blue on a Toranite here she comes, to the bar, to the table, he's tugging his hood down and slouching in a casual affect.  Does she know it's him?  He's got the poncho on but his pants are still a mottled blue and black...she's hitting on Marcus.  He plays drunk, nudges the elf and excuses himself so they can have "private time".  He figures they'll head out, but they don't, she leads him to a room in the inn, what does he do now - yeah, that'll work - puts the ale down and does a little pee dance, that gives him an excuse to look for the loo.  Back to the inn, she's in a room with Marcus now, too many people around, need a distraction...back hall...woven flax rugs...fire lamps on the walls...yeah.

He doesn't want to burn the place down so he loosens the lamp, lets it fall on the rug, hoping it looks like an accident.  Enough fire to draw the patrons away.  Sneaks back out, drops a hint to some people nearby - "anyone else smell smoke?" and then the cries of "FIRE!" ring out.  His cue, but Marcus is already back at the table, what the hells?  He slips into the room Juliana led Marcus to and there she is, beaten half to the pits, bleeding all over her kimono.  

He locks the door from the inside to give himself time to think, she won't die in the next minute anyway.  She's a good agent, he doesn't want to let her die, and that's a problem for him.  Not much good as a Dread Blade if he can't handle watching someone die.

Or get tortured.

Not there yet Ty, back up.  Juliana.  What's the big picture?  Marcus went into the room for a while, came back out - then he goes in and she's beaten and bleeding.  Either one of them will be blamed if anyone finds them.  If he's going to get Marcus's trust though he needs to show he's a clean-up guy.  So, let the elf see him getting her out of here.  He gives her just enough potion that she won't bleed out, just enough to repair the deep tissues, nothing more.  "I'm going to have to carry you and it's going to cost you a finger or a toe."  

She's recognized him.  She takes it in stride.  "Whatever you have to do."

How to get her out...murmurs from outside that the fire is out - pits - he wraps her in a blanket and throws her fireman's carry style over his shoulder, racing out of the room without letting himself think about what he's doing, yelling "FIRE" and "SAVE THE DRUNKS"...he's a hero, see?  Saving the nice lady.  Not his fault he doesn't know the danger is over.  Runs straight out of the building, doesn't stop until he has some cover.  A minute later, pretty sure he's not been followed, he kneels by her.  And then she tells him what has his stomach in knots now.  ""...Katherine sent you here with us...I was made. He has someone on the inside, someone important. Someone sold us out..."

In the end he cuts off her pinkie.  Himself, with a dagger.  She merely winces.  Whatever it takes to protect the crown.  He wraps it in a piece of the blanket he brought her out in, gets blood from the blanket all over his shirt but changes - if he needs more proof, the shirt will do.  He tells her to vanish and she does while he heads back.  His stomach is knotted.  He doesn't show it.

Marcus is still at the table sipping wine.  He settles.

Did he take care of it?

Yeah, he did.  She was mostly gone anyway.  Here's your present, don't unwrap it in here.  He passes the bit of blanket over to the elf.

What did he do with the corpse?

Compost wagon.  Figure by the time they find her, she'll just be one more dead hooker.  Marcus laughs, a nasty laugh, his smile follows suit.  "We're going to get along just fine."

What do they call you?

"Marcus."

He's Bill.  Marcus nods.  Bill - yeah, Bill.  Bill...Hart.  He doesn't speak the last name yet but it's there.  He's feeling it.

Then he starts probing, the elf does.  What does think about politics, how would he like to be rich.  There's going to be another hooker on the pile before they're done, and Bill could a right-hand man to a king...guy's callous but fervent.  Makes his arm hair stand up.  Guy values a concept, an idea or ideal - that's a magnitude or more harder than someone who values another person.  Marcus asks him if he wants another job - yeah.  Go to the castle and get hired, a guard, a servant...get on the inside. Let him know when he's in and wait.

He can do that, but he's been burned before and coin is the voice that gives life to "you need to trust me".  A bag of True is kicked near his feet.  He reaches down to scratch his ankle and scoops it up.  

Marcus leaves.  He hangs out a while.

He's expecting to sip a little more ale and leave himself except for Juliana's partner who now takes an interest in him.  She comes over, grace incarnate, oh cra....

"How much did he pay you?"

It's Silk.

"How much did he pay you?  Did you kill her?"

Right here, in the bar?  Really?  He plays dumb, tries to get away, she's having none of it.  Orders the bar emptied and by the gods it empties.  Turns out the bartender and patrons were hired for that day - the setup on Marcus is huge.  He fell right into it with no idea.

"Did you kill her?"

He did what had to be done.  He doesn't elaborate.  She doesn't ask what 'had to be' actually is, but is satisfied.  She does take out the writ of fealty, however.  He must sign.  He gets another lecture on how important it is, he listens for a lie.  She knows about being made.  She claims she wrote the letter from "K.C.", which is odd but her logic is mostly sound.  She tells him they can trust no one at the castle now.  

He signs.

"All contact can be considered from the Regina directly; don't trust anyone at the castle...."...you will be disavowed if things do not work in your favor..."

He'd better not screw up then.  He's headed toward the castle - jogging - he, Bill Hart.  A guy in need of a job who works hard.  Silk tells him to do whatever Marcus says.  He doesn't trust her.  He doesn't trust Juliana.  He absolutely beyond a shadow of a doubt doesn't trust Marcus.  And he has no place to turn.

Welcome to politics, Ty.

Title: Mort Tallytee. Mortissar
Post by: RollinsCat on September 30, 2014, 10:40:12 pm

Mort Tallytee. Mortissar Bale. Man, Dad is not gonna be happy about this. 

Poor Lola. He's gotta tell her.