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Post by Sunday on Jan 10, 2020 12:18:10 GMT
28 Nightal 1496Claws retracting, Sunday spits a mess of broken bone and bloody saliva onto the sand of the makeshift fighting pit. Wiping her mouth clean, she bows to the drow opposite her and climbs back up to ground level, the three new cuts down one side of her face mute testament to the categorical loss. Heading over to the ramshackle bar set against one wall of the wharf, Sunday slides a copper or two across the flat wooden surface and cracks open the bottle pushed towards her in return. Gulping down half her beer straight off, she turns to watch the next bout and, in the process, bumps against the figure moving into place at the bar next to her. “Sorry, friend.” Sunday murmurs, not looking around, her eyes fixed on the tortle slamming his opponent into the ground. In response, Sunday hears a light chuckle and familiar voice. “Hello, Sunday.” “Markas!” Sunday exclaims, almost dropping her drink. “I didn’t see you! Have you been there long?” Wearing his trademark grin, he looks down at her. "A little while. I came to speak to Slim and thought I'd stick around for a fight afterwards. I was surprised to see it was you!" “Damn, I was hoping you might have missed that absolute beating I just got.” She says ruefully, rosebud-tipped tail curling over her shoulder to self-consciously cover the cuts - now already healed to scars - across her right cheek. “Still, here’s hoping these wounds end up looking as heroic and fetching as yours!” "I don't know," he says, gently touching the fresh scars, "I thought you looked pretty heroic anyway." Sunday’s hand absently starts to move to where Markas touched her cheek, before she covers the motion - and her rising blush - with a long drink, finishing off the contents of the bottle. “Want one?” She says, a bit hurriedly, waving the empty glass in the air. "Sure." He turns to the bar, moving closer to Sunday so they can talk over the noise as the tortle in the ring continues to throw his opponent around, "I was actually going to come looking for you after here. About that temple you put a notice up about?" “Huh? For me? Oh! Yes!” She says, handing him a beer. “The temple. Right… Is everything resolved?” "It sounds it. Gegrun really stumbled onto a mess over there. We ran into another one of those fiends, the one from the Tower in K'ul Goran, and were in the middle of fighting it when Slim showed up and finished it off. Said something about a portal to the Hells further down… something to do with Glasya I think," he absently runs his hand through his hair, visibly trying to remember the right names before taking a drink. "I actually came here to find out what happened but he seems to think they closed it now." At the words ‘portal to Hells’ and ‘Glasya’, Sunday’s eyes narrow slightly and her air of nervousness fades somewhat. “Are you sure about all that? A portal to the lower planes? In the Feythorn?! And Glasya’s involved?” "That's what he said.” Markas nods to where Slim… was. "A bunch of drow showed up and headed down into the lower levels, Slim with them. I asked how it went and he said they closed it off… he’s back so that must mean something, I guess." He looks back to Sunday, seeing the change. "Are you ok?" “You sure it was the same type of fiend as in the Tower?” She asks, ignoring his question. “‘Cos that one was an arcanaloth. Called Mogtron. And arcanaloth don’t work on their own: they usually work for people... And if you found evidence of Glasya at the temple… How do you know she’s involved?” "Only what Slim told us, unfortunately." The half-elf looks a little sheepish saying it out loud. “Hmmm… You’re too trusting, Markas.” She pushes her hair out of her face and sighs. “We’ll need to talk to Slim. There’s someone immensely powerful behind the shitstorm that swept through K’ul Goran; someone pulling the strings of not just the giants, but of Mogtron and his ilk, too. We encountered a minion of Glasya’s some months back… I didn’t think much of it then… If it is her...” Sunday trails off, chewing her lower lip distractedly. "They seem to be cropping up everywhere,” he glances back to the arena again, just in time to see the tortle lose his footing and tumble to the ground amid a cheer from the crowd. He gives a cursory glance around the place before noticing Sunday, "look, I don't know much about what's going on but…. This isn't your responsibility to fix, Sunday. There is a lot of us here and… well…. I'll be here to help if i can." He gives her a warm smile that's cut off as there is a surge in the crowd as someone bumps into him, causing him to wince as his ribs flare again "erm...shall we get out of here?" Sunday returns his smile, some of the worry lining her face dropping away. “S’a good idea. I’m starving. Getting the shit kicked out of you will do that,” She says, nudging him, a tad harder than necessary, in his tender side. “Right?” Markas, almost doubling in pain, lets out a pained laugh as he clutches his ribs and speaks in a strained voice, “Sure… hungry.”, before following Sunday’s lead through the crowds. (Written with Markas Virnala )
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Post by Ser Baine Cinderwood 🔥🌼 on Jan 10, 2020 12:32:18 GMT
1) when the HELL did Markas become a SMOOVE MF??
2) Marday? Sunkas? GHOST PUNCHER TREE NUKE I DON'T CARE I SHIP IT
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Post by Markas Virnala on Jan 15, 2020 14:33:20 GMT
Later that day, 28 Nightal 1496
Picking up some food and drink from a street stall, Markas and Sunday stroll down to the docks and find an empty spot along the waterfront.
As they sit dangling their unshod feet above the water, Sunday glances back over her shoulder at Port Ffirst. “It’s funny how quickly things can grow. I remember a time when this area was nothing but scrubland and forest. Now it’s flourishing town. I kinda wish you’d seen Kantas and Daring in the old days, Markas.”
“What did I miss?” Markas asks, taking a swig from the wine bottle and passing it to her, wincing as he does.
“It was certainly simpler. Fewer people. You knew who everyone was.” Sunday pauses to drink before continuing with a chuckle. “Well, maybe not everyone. Anyway, it was just different, purer. Less discord. Quieter, maybe. I didn’t realise how much I liked the quiet before I came here.”
“The changes can’t be all bad?” Markas responds.
“I don’t fucking like change.” Sunday says, in a passable imitation of Baine’s gruff, clipped tones. “No, I suppose you’re right.” She sighs, before her voice alters to unerringly mimic the soft, mellifluous tones of Aurelia. “The prosperity of the land is assuredly a way to guarantee the safety of its people. Progress and stability in equal measure are the watchwords of our Council’s governance.”
Markas grins at the impression, taking a bite from an apple.
“Nah, Aurelia’s alright.” Sunday says, admiringly. “She’s been here since the beginning, I think. Before any of us. Did you know she’s descended from angels?”
"Angels? Like actually descended or, like…. Well, godly, I guess, like Rholor?"
“Ah, but what are angels if not a reflection of godhood adjusted for mere mortal minds? Not a mind like mine, you understand, unfettered from commonplace thought and quotidian concern, but a mind that cannot see the greater skein through which it stumbles.” says Rholor’s voice from beside him. Markas spins to look to his left, but it’s just Sunday sitting there, smirking.
He beams at Sunday, clearly enjoying the cast of characters she brings with her, "You actually had me fooled there with that one… Did Baine ever tell you about when we first met Rholor?"
“No?”
"Back before… well, before the scene you caused in the Amaranthine games, we were asked to be an escort team for Rholor as part of some ceremony. Was supposed to be pretty straight forward but some guy called Farstep turned us all into children and we had to make our way there through this sunken city like that! we even got kidnapped by goblins at one point" He laughs a small chuckle to himself thinking back on it, "He was completely useless the whole time. Couldn't believe it when people actually told me who he is and what he's done here…. That's actually where I got this" - he runs his hand through his grey hair - "would you believe it used to be brown?", looking round to Sunday, only now noticing she’d got quieter and quieter during his story.
He decides to change the subject, "But I mean that was one of the odd trips we've had since coming here, I'm sure you have your share of stories too. I mean, I've nearly died a few times already and it's not even been a year yet."
"Yer, could say that." is Sundays clipped answer as she takes a long drink from the wine bottle, "but what's that about almost dying?" Her eyes narrowing slightly.
"Well, I didn't come here with all these scars. Was caught off guard a few times…. That's partly why I was so happy for the training with you on the boat." he smiles at her, remembering how close he was to being impaled a few times, recognising it was an odd thing to think fondly of, but still he did, "I'd like to do that again."
"That was fun" she says with a soft chuckle, seemingly glad to be moving on, "We should. But, come on, you can give me more details than that."
Now Markas seems a little embarrassed as he giggles a slight nervous laugh, "um… well, my first day here was when I met Baine. We went out and ended up exploring a sunken ship that had some kind of spirit inside. Barely caught sight or when it screamed and I passed out. Would have drowned then if it wasn't for the others."
Markas glances round and is happy to see Sunday is avidly listening. He thinks for a second before turning to face her directly and loosens his shirt a little, showing her the long claw marks on his chest, a host of smaller scattered cuts as well as revealing some deep bruising on his side.
"So, these," tracing the claw marks, "are from a werewolf we were investigating here in Port Ffirst. We tracked her into the woods and while we were trying to subdue her… I should say we learned it was a woman trying to cure herself… well, she spun round and cut me down before I could get out of the way. I almost bled to death that night. But we managed to cure her at least, I think she might still be around town somewhere actually…. And well I'm sure Baine has told you about that dragon we went looking for", he says running his hand over the burn to his neck, "that was actually one of the main reasons I asked for your help if I'm honest."
“Happy to help,” Sunday smiles, “though you could’ve been a little less adept at dodging my attacks. Way to make me feel useless.”
He chuckles at the comment, “Well, I’m sure we can do it all again sometime” he says with a wink before continuing, “...then all of these smaller ones are from our trip to the Shadowfell to help Paw. We were swarmed by hundreds of undead and, well, no matter how quick I am, it's only so good against a hoard."
"The Shadowfell? I've been to a lot of places but never there… what's it like?"
"Bleak… we were sent by this odd guy living in a cave, supposedly near where Granny lived and… well, it was barren. Grey and just…. Devoid of life. It's not a place I'd imagine you'd like.
There is a brief moment of quiet as they sit side by side, listening to the water lap at the shore, the only light coming from the stars above and the fading lanterns in town behind them. Markas takes a breath, about to say something, but Sunday speaks first.
"Granny used to be my patron, you know"
"Really?" He says, visibly surprised by the revelation as he goes quiet, whatever was about to be said now seemingly lost. A second or two passes before she continues.
"Yer, I've made some bad choices but that was probably top of the fucking list. Thought she'd be able to get rid of some of the worse stuff hanging over me. I mean... that worked, but yer, it was a mistake..." She trails off for a second, before shrugging aside any chance for melancholy by leaping up onto one of the mooring bollards lining the docks and striking a stiff, straight-backed, noble pose.
"Still!” She declares, in an uncanny imitation of Varis. “That which does not kill you, soldier, fortifies you for the struggles to come. Onwards! To duty and death!"
Markas breaks into laughter and looks up at the tiefling. "I just... " He stands, too. "I don't know. I guess I just don't see you like that. From everything I hear, Granny was dark. But you're like a light, Sunday"
Sunday smiles a bit bashfully at his description, before a semi-serious expression settles across her features. "I won't lie to you, Markas. I've had my dark... years... too. A lot of people know - and fear - me by a different name: the Lady Sunday. But that was a very different person then compared to who I am now, I hope. It sounds trite, I know; but that was almost another being. You, and Baine, and Ghesh, and Traav, and the others, have met me at a better time in my life. And I'm thankful for that."
"I think most people have things in their past they'd rather forget.. or maybe atone for... I don't know what you did back then and I won't ask, you can tell me if your feel comfortable to....But I told you before, you're a good person, Sunday. That's what matters. We can't change the past, only what we do next." - the last line sounding like he is quoting someone.
She looks relieved at Markas' response, relaxing again. "Wise words, those. Was that supposed to be Paw? Not bad, but you should really be standing on one leg with a cup of tea balanced on your head or something to truly nail the impression."
"Haha, no, it was someone from back home, but thinking on it, it does sound like something Paw would say.... you’re pretty good at these impressions."
"Ha, thanks,” Sunday says, as they start walking back towards the heart of Port Ffirst. “I've always had the knack. Where is back home anyway? Was this person important to you? They sound like they made an impact."
"One of the monks who trained us growing up in the Monastery. It’s.... well, it's a pretty long way from Kantas... And, I mean, I say ‘Home’ but I guess it isn't really that anymore. Speaking of... you still haven't taken me to that Glade you said you've been staying in?"
"Oh, Willow Glade? That's my home now, for sure. It's beautiful. Will and the unicorn Aribeth gifted it to me. You should come and see it when you're next in Daring. It's just a few hours south of town."
His face momentarily takes on a puzzled look as she says ‘unicorn’, but quickly breaks into his familiar smile again, "I'd like that."
Seeing the confused look flash across Markas' face, Sunday pats him on the arm as they turn into the street where the Flourished Hook’s open windows and doors are spilling light and noise out into the dark night. "I'll explain when you come and visit."
While they walk along, Markas has a pretty content look on his face. "You know... it's been really nice, just having some time with you... Every other time we meet we're usually running into danger of some sort."
"Yeah, you're right. Some of those times were pretty fun, mind you. But it's nice to not have to wear armour all the time.” She stops outside the Hook. “Next time, we should pack some food and go for a wander somewhere. I've been meaning to visit Evenbloom Hill for a while now." She looks a bit nervous for a second, backtracking slightly. "I mean, if you'd like to do this again, that is...."
He gives her an affectionate smile and a gentle nudge, his hand just brushing hers as he does, "How could I not?"
Sunday smiles, and goes to nudge him back but, remembering his injured ribs, stops herself. Instead, she stands on her unshod tiptoes and kisses him softly on the cheek. "Wonderful. I'll see you soon, Markas. Good night." And she goes inside.
Markas watches her enter and waits a moment before turning to head back the way they came. He wasn’t feeling ready for sleep yet. As he does, he hears a noise from the building across the street from the Hook. He looks up to see eLk perched on the roof opposite, looking down at him with a quizzical - almost suspicious - expression on his long face.
(With Sunday )
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Post by Ser Baine Cinderwood 🔥🌼 on Jan 15, 2020 15:03:29 GMT
I am making hearteyes at my phone.
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Post by Sunday on Jan 29, 2020 13:06:44 GMT
A trip to Evenbloom Hill
Early morning, 3rd Hammer 1497
He sighs heavily, watching his breath form into a mist that twists and swirls in the cold air before it vanishes seconds later. He is frustrated. The cold wasn’t a problem. He's been out here for nearly an hour already but he doesn't feel it. It's not the waiting either. It was the other feeling he hadn’t felt for a long time, that was bugging him. The kind of… vulnerable feeling he was getting, and not because he had left his gear at home. Leaning on one of the wooden post markers outside the city, the monk had been stood not far from the East Gate of Daring Heights for almost an hour now, wrapped in a brown cloak to keep out the biting cold that came on the breeze. A large bag is slung over his shoulder as he stares into the distance, towards Port Ffirst, seemingly lost in thought - Did I bring too much? Too little? Maybe it’s too cold for this? Is there even a this? What if it’s not? Maybe I should get my stuff? I feel weird without it… Maybe I’m overthinking this? I should have asked. No that would be silly…. What if sh-“Hey!” He snaps round, a familiar voice shaking him out of his train of thought, a smile forcing its way onto his face. “Hey, Sunday”, and before she can say anything, he embraces her. "Oh!" - Sunday, taken aback by the sudden sign of affection feels herself blush, happy he can't see her for a second. She brings her arms up to wrap around him, but before she can he stands back, a sheepish look on his face. "Sorry." "It's ok" - she says with a small chuckle, smiling as she brushes a lock of green-flecked blonde hair back into place. "Have you been here long?" "No, not long at all. I'm… I'm happy to see you. Shall we go?" *** This early in the day, the countryside east of town is quiet. Strolling slowly through the fields, the sunlight glances down through the thinning dewy mist hanging in the air around them, the crisp cold animating their breath in fleeting whirls of mist as they talk. The ethereal atmosphere is almost enchanting - or it would be if they had taken notice. Instead, the two are focused on each other: Sunday keenly listening to Markas as he recounts the stories of his youth (no doubt making mental notes of those who had wronged him); and Markas captivated with Sunday’s graceful, impassioned demeanor as she talks of the Glade and the work she has put into restoring the corruption left behind after Granny’s demise. The sun is edging its way towards its zenith as they approach their destination: a giant hillside dotted with lavender and small purple buds. As they start to climb the sloping tor, they wend their way between curious trees, festooned with large purple bell-like flowers, growing out of the knee-high lavendar-coloured heather and gorse covering the surface of the hill. The day slips by while they share the food Markas has brought; share their thoughts; share their stories. Markas recounting his journey to Kantas and the adventures along the way. The things he regrets, the things he loves. Sunday is a little reticent at first to reciprocate and share the details of her past life, often teetering on saying something and holding back for most of the afternoon but eventually deciding the only way to know for sure if he will still want to talk with her is to just lay everything out. She starts to tell the stories of The Lady she once was, before she came to Kantas, her early days in Daring, and the transformation she has undergone since. The good, the bad, the worse, and the worst of it all. It was difficult but the wondering had been eating at her for days now and once started, there was no stopping the torrent from coming forth. When she is finally finished, there is a tense silence as she expects him to shout or leave or… something. Instead, in that moment of stillness, a light catches her eye as she finally notices the buds covering the hillside have opened, blossoming into a sea of fragrant purple flowers all around them, each bloom almost glowing in the faint lights now emanating from the bell flowers on the trees, with tiny creatures begin flitting in and out of them. The calming scene is a far cry from the gut-wrenching apprehension Sunday feels as she turns on the monk, searching for the answer, something to break the silence. The answer he finally gives is a kiss, allaying her current fears and feelings, replacing them with new ones. They sit hand in hand on the top of Evenbloom Hill, looking north across the fields to the majestic, verdant expanse of the Angelbark Woods. Eventually, with the light starting to fade through vibrant hues of crimson and orange into deep purple and blue, the pair stand and make their way back down the hill. About halfway, Sunday suddenly stops and puts a hand up to her hair, saying “Oh, where…?” She starts to hunt through the grass at their feet. After a second, she straightens up holding a small bead of some kind: “Found it!” and she weaves it back into her hair. She looks at Markas, a glint in her eye, and smiles “Race you the rest of the way!” taking off running before he can reply. Markas blinks before starting after her. A second later, however, the half-elf is flat on his back, staring at the darkening sky. “What the-” He looks down, and sees the laces of his simple shoes have been expertly tied together. With a curse and a laugh, he cuts through the soft leather and - at a blinding pace - sprints after the tiefling, easily closing the distance between them. As he moves by her at incredible speed, he shouts ”Cheap trick with the bead! Not gonna help you now, though!” and glides away, putting over 100ft between him and her in a blink of an eye. Seeing the almost-impossible rate at which Markas is accelerating, Sunday stares after him, impressed and confused. She swears and clicks her heels together, vanishing from sight in a haze of golden-green smoke. Markas, nearing the base of the hill, looks up to see Sunday casually sitting in a tree ahead of him, leaning back against the trunk, big red boots swinging lazily in the air above the ground. As he closes the gap, she jumps down and steps passed the tree back out onto the fringes of the flatlands between Evenbloom and Daring. “I win.” She says simply, a self-satisfied smirk on her face. He can’t help himself but laugh as he finally reaches her “Well, guess I need to be a bit quicker next time” he says with a wink as he takes her arm. As they walk across the open fields back to Daring, Sunday stops again, turning Markas to face Evenbloom. The sun is well and truly setting in the sky by now, and where before the hill has looked merely dotted here and there with lavender, it was now completely coated with lilac and purple flowers. The blooms and blossoms were slowly opening in response to the setting sun, layering the hillside in a fresh unbroken coat of violet paint. The pair stand, hand in hand, and watch until the light has faded entirely, before turning and walking back to Daring...
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Post by Sunday on Feb 20, 2020 18:49:44 GMT
Early evening - 18th Alturiak
At the sound of slow, regular wingbeats, Markas pauses in his training, recognising the now familiar sound.
A minute or two later and eLk lands in the centre of the glade in the fading evening light, Sunday already sliding from his back even as his hooves touch ground. Having greeted Markas, she starts to unload the bags from eLk’s back and tidy away her travelling gear.
“Kas,” Sunday asks, haphazardly slinging produce and items into the natural larder carved into the small hill out of which the gigantic willow was growing. “You know BB, right? What’s she like?”
“I do!” Markas replies, surreptitiously and rapidly rearranging things neatly as Sunday walks over to wash her hands in the stream. “She has been on a few of the trips I’ve been out on over the last few months. She’s really nice… bit of a wildcard with her magic sometimes, but not in a malevolent way.” Markas glances over at Sunday, who looks pensive, chewing her bottom lip. “Why? What’s up?"
“I’m not sure yet. I think she might have released a giant angry snake god into Kantas. What's for dinner?"
"Oh ok.... I was thinking a nice salad?"
"Lovely choice. There're some herbs and vegetables growing by the stream: just next to the pile of holy water."
“You know, for what it’s worth," Markas offers. "She probably didn’t mean to release it?”
"Mmmm. It sounds like she went into it eyes wide open and made a definite choice."
"Hmmm.... that sounds odd for her. You going to ask her about it, I assume?"
"Well, yer. Did you not feel the realignment? I was with Will when it happened. They were very concerned - as much as They ever show what They’re really feeling."
"Realignment? I don't .... think so?"
“No? Nearly deafened me. Everything seemed to lurch sideways but also freeze in place all at the same time. You didn’t feel that?”
Markas looks very interested in hearing this. “No. I’ve never experienced anything like that… When was it?”
“Last tenday. When the world changed. Seven days ago now, I think it was. Just after sunset.”
Markas’ face is a blank slate. “The world changed!?”
“Yer, you idiot.” Sunday laughs. “That’s what happens when a god emerges from slumber. Tell me you’ve at least noticed the new constellation?”
Markas’ face now takes on a deep look of concern. “The what!?”
“.... fuck’s sake. Come here.” She springs back onto eLk’s back and holds out her hand to Markas. “Get up.”
With Markas settled in behind Sunday, eLk launches himself into the air and heads straight up, flying up and out through the Feythorn’s canopy and into the night sky.
“Right,” Sunday says, extending her arm upwards. “You see the small shiny twinkly glowing things. Those are called stars, yer?”
“I know what stars are, Sunday” he laughs. “But entire new constellations and gods waking up are something I’m not familiar with… where is the new one?”
Sunday laughs and kisses him. “Follow my hand, where I’m pointing. You see the Eyes of the Watching Woman, true West, yer?”
“Uh huh...”
“Well?”
“Well, what?”
“Well, how many eyes does a woman usually have? Not that you know much about women...”
He ignores the last comment. “Two?“
“Genius. And how many does She have now…?”
He looks again for a second, realisation dawning on him as he sees a third now. “Oooooohhhh….. Hmmm. I’m going to assume that’s not a good thing? But how did you even feel that?”
Sunday leaps up to balance on eLk’s broad neck, pirouetting gracefully to face him, unmindful of the yawning empty air beneath them. She takes one of his hands and places it against the bare skin at the bottom of her throat. “Focus. Like when you meditate. But outwards this time.”
He smiles as he does as she says, closing his eyes and concentrating first on his own centre then on the the feel of her skin under his hand.
She slaps his hand playfully. “Don’t focus on that. Focus beyond.”
“Give me a chance!” he laughs, as he starts to reach out further, searching for the energy beneath her skin.
As he adjusts to the sensation of tracking another’s life force without interfering with it, he begins to feel the energy at her core move like waves washing across a beach - or like fresh soil being regularly turned over and resettled.
“Good.” She says quietly after ten or so minutes. “Now put your other hand on eLk’s back and do the same.”
This time, knowing what he’s looking for, Markas can feel and attune to the spiritual rhythm far more quickly. As the connection is made, eLk whinnies and shakes his head once or twice in small instinctive surprise before settling himself. Markas feels the flow buck and sputter in response.
“And that’s how I felt the change. Imagine the whole world kicking out in response to something new, something momentous, being introduced to it.”
His eyes flash open in comprehension and he looks at Sunday with a thoughtful look for a second. “Ok. Like a ripple effect then?” She nods as he continues. “I’ve never tried to focus for so long on one thing like that… I was taught how to interrupt it but…. Watching it move is different…”
“Different but still the same, I think. Just in another direction?”
“Well, yes. I guess I don’t normally get the chance to hold onto something so long so never tried before. So that’s what you felt, a shift in… everything?”
“Yer. I can normally only feel things - life, energy, I guess it doesn’t matter what it’s called - when they’re close by. Being near Will… amplified my ability, I think. Mind you, a shift that big - I dunno how you missed it. Even the stones screamed out.”
A thoughtful look crosses his face as he looks back up to the stars for a moment. “Maybe I just wasn’t listening at the time.”
“I miss a lot of things, too, when I’m not paying attention. Will’s been teaching me how to listen better. It’s a funny thing to learn how to do. It’s like asking a fish to think about how it breathes underwater.” Gills appear on the side of Sunday’s neck and she makes fish-faces at Markas, crossing her eyes in mock confusion as eLk begins a slow descent to the forest below.
A smile dances across his face at the explanation and accompanying demonstration. “Well, I clearly need to listen more… but… what do you suppose this means, Sun?”
Sunday exhales noisily, leaning her head back against Markas’ chest. “Fucked if I know. I mean, it might all be fine? But stuff involving evil angry snake gods awakening from eons of enforced slumber rarely ends happily. Especially not when they’re tied up with Glasya and the rest of the fiend shit that’s going on. It’s why I want to speak to BB, anyway. Get a better sense of what’s happening.”
“Hmmm. Ok. It doesn’t sound like something she would want to do, but talking is a good place to start, I guess.”
“Yer, you’re right. I’ll leave the hammers at home.” eLk’s leisurely pace finally takes them back below the treetops. “Talking of which, why don’t you spend a bit more time here with me and eLk? Can teach you what Will’s been teaching me about listening.”
Wrapping his arms around her, holding her a little closer, “I’d like that.”
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Post by Ser Baine Cinderwood 🔥🌼 on Feb 20, 2020 22:18:31 GMT
This some cute ass shit yo
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Post by Sunday on Mar 2, 2020 20:19:38 GMT
Evening, 31st Alturiak 1497
The door to Markas’ room swings open and bounces off the inside wall. Markas and Leocanto, carrying Sunday between them, stagger into the room and deposit her on the bed.
“She can sleep it off here, but she’s not getting on that stage again for a while. And tell her she owes me for all the shattered tables and broken chandeliers.” Leo starts to leave, before stopping at the threshold and looking back over his shoulder. “It was a very good song, though, gotta give her that.” With a wink, he departs back to the main room and the commotion below.
“Thanks, Leo, I’ll tell her.” Markas closes the door and turns to deal with the semi-conscious Sunday - only to find her sitting up on the bed, her back to the wall, eyes clear, all signs of intoxication gone. He can’t help but laugh at the sudden change. “You know… I could have done with a hangover cure like that before now.”
“One of the many benefits that comes with the pleasure of knowing me.” Sunday replies. “And since when do you ever get drunk?”
“Well, there have been a few times since I’ve been here… Mostly with Baine.” He trails off a little at the end.
At the mention of the half-orc, Sunday’s expression turns impassive, business-like. “You know he and I are leaving tomorrow? With a few of the others. We need to move fast to salvage this mess.”
He eyes her for a moment, a blank expression as he thinks. Then, with a brief nod, Markas moves over to the wardrobe and starts taking out his spare clothes, laying them on the bed next to Sunday, before fetching a large bag from where it is hanging on the back of the door.
Nonplussed, Sunday watches him for a moment as he sorts through and picks out a spare tunic or two, rolling them up and stuffing them into the travelling sack.
“What are you doing?” She asks, confused.
“Packing.”
“Packing? Why? Where’re you going?”
".... Phlegethos."
Sunday raises an eyebrow marginally. “Oh? Yer? And how do you think you’re getting there?”
“With you lot.” Markas replies shortly.
Sunday laughs curtly. “You know, people always underestimate just how funny you are.”
“I’m not joking, Sun.” Markas says bluntly, weighing a couple of daggers in his hands before choosing one and strapping it to the side of his belt.
“Well, you better fucking get your head checked. You’re obviously not coming with us.”
“Then I’ll go on my own.”
Sunday sits back against the wall, folding her arms across her chest. “Yer? And how’re you getting there?”
"... Walking..."
Sunday scoffs. “Go on then. Which way is it?”
He looks frustrated, "I don’t know yet..."
"Yer, and you're not gonna know."
"Well… that might make my job a little harder then." He says while roughly shoving his cloak into his pack.
"What job's that? I'm not hiring for this trip, you know."
"It’s just... something I need to make sure of."
"What's that, then?"
"I need to-" he stops packing abruptly and fidgets for a second before dropping his stuff and sitting down on the edge of the bed next to Sunday "... I need to make sure my....I need to make sure you come back.” He pauses, several emotions rising and falling across his face. Markas sits quietly for a few seconds, losing himself in her eyes. "You protect people. And I know you've put yourself in danger for that before... but I love you and I need to make sure you’re coming back. And to do that I need to come with you."
He says it so matter-of-factly, so plainly, that Sunday doesn’t register at first what he’s just said.
“I’m not gonna put myself in any danger. I’m gonna put those fiends in danger. And then I’m gonna put them in the fucking ground. Then I’m gonna come back and help Leo-”
“I said ‘I love you’.” Markas says quietly but firmly, cutting straight across her words. “Did you hear me, Sunday?”
“-the...broken tables...what?” Sunday’s face is puzzled for a second, before a slow creeping flush of understanding covers her face, and she says in a small voice: “You do?”
The half-elf nods. “Yes. And that’s why I have to come with you. Wherever you’re going.”
Sunday covers her face in shock and embarrassment, before flinging her hands either side of Markas' face and kisses him deeply. "I love you too, Kas. But that's why I need you to stay here.” She says adamantly. “Give me a reason to come back.” Some of the resolve and authority drains from her voice as the worry starts to build in her eyes. ”Please… The others and I… this is our mess. And if you’re there, I won’t be able to focus properly for worrying. And I need to be able to concentrate on getting them and myself through this. No distractions. Please?"
Markas sighs, lifting his hands up to meet hers as his eyes dance over every feature of her face, taking in every detail. He kisses her back, gently pressing his forehead against hers.
"...you need to come back, Sun..."
"I'll come back. I promise. I won't lie: there was a time when I thought going back to Phlegethos would be it. You know? Either I'd die or stay there. Not now, though. Kantas is a shithole, to be honest; but it's our shithole. I'll come back. I will come back.
"You'd better.” He says with a weary smile. "Otherwise I have a hell of a walk to come find you...."
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Post by Ser Baine Cinderwood 🔥🌼 on Mar 2, 2020 20:30:39 GMT
I’m not crying, you’re crying
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Post by Sunday on Apr 27, 2020 14:50:19 GMT
Morning, 23rd Tarsahk, 1497”So… where’s my birthday surprise?” “It’s hardly a surprise if you're expecting it!” “Yer, but I’m not gonna be here on the actual day, so…” “You’re not?” Markas is visibly crestfallen at the news. “Where are you going?” “Sorry, babe.” Sunday reaches out and pats his cheek. “Gotta run a quick errand down to Sigil in the next few days. Been waiting on some info about those aberrations in Phlegethos. Won’t be more than a day or two.” “Oh ok…. And you can’t go another day?” “‘Fraid not. I’d like nothing more than to be here so you can spend the whole day spoiling me. Needs must, though.” Markas gives Sunday a long look,” Well, why don’t we do something today then?” “You sure? I wouldn’t want the spontaneity to kill you?” She says, teasingly. “Got anything in mind? He breaks into a wide grin, “Well I spend most of my time with you right? And I’m still standing!” “Well, sometimes you’re lying down…” Sunday says, archly. “I was thinking we could go for a picnic? Maybe back to evenbloom hill, or there is a small lake in the Feythorn not too far away if you fancy a swim or...." he gives her a wink and a roguish grin, “Then…. Well we could always head back to the OCF, climb up on the roof and you can show off your bagpipes again?” Sunday laughs, clapping her hands together excitedly. “Yes! I love it! I’ve not used them since Conrad shot an arrow through them. Let’s go to the lake. I’ll go get eLk and meet you outside in an hour.” *** Afternoon, 23rd Tarsahk, 1497Watching the Sun’s rays play across the surface of the lake, the couple finishes off the remnants of the picnic. A few pieces of cake remain but the sandwiches have all been eaten. “This is nice… with how busy everything’s been, we haven’t had much time for ourselves like this” “It’s lovely.” Sunday smiles, picking at a few crumbs as she looks across the tranquil waters and the quiet forest beyond. “Sorry I’ve been away a lot recently. Phelgethos, Avernus. 10,000 miles underwater.” “It’s ok… I know you wouldn’t have been happy sitting back and letting others deal with things. Especially with what happened to Varis and getting him back…. Hopefully things will settle down soon though, after you’re back from Sigil.” “I hope you’re right.” Sunday smiles, wistfully. “I can feel things gathering, though - like a storm, you know?” She shivers a little. “And not one of those refreshing summer one, either. More like a shitty maelstrom of total destruction, ripping trees up by the root and scattering everything before it.” “Yeah… it’s been coming a while now. I was kinda hoping it would pass but i knew it wouldn’t really.” He looks off over the lake for a long moment. “Sun, you’d tell me if there was more going on right, if there was some way I could help?” “Yer, course. It’s been ages since we’ve tackled anything together. That trip to sabotage the giants’ workshop all those months ago - that was fun. Apart from the whole being ambushed by the God of Murder thing…” She runs a hand through his hair. “I’m excited to see what you’ve been training on.” She gestures out across the water and at the wider continent. “Remember when you couldn’t even feel the world shaking with the emergence of the One Serpent and now you’re reading the air as well as Pieni or Daisy!” A slight blush rises in his face and he smiles back, “Well, I only got started because of you. But it would be good to work together again, I’ve made a lot of progress!” “Show me something!” “Alright!”, He sits up in front of his companion, “So, you taught me to listen…but I’ve been trying to feel outwards a little more physically”. He places a hand on Sunday, mimicking their previous talk. “A little like this…” a look of concentration crosses his face for a second as a subtle warm, tingling sensation emanates from his hand Sunday giggles. “That feels nice…” “It’s not quite there yet, of course…. And I’ve been training with my swords quite a bit.” He thinks for a second. “There is something else I can do now!” He says standing up, turning to the water, “Fancy a swim?” Sunday raises an eyebrow, holding up her hands for him to pull her to her feet. “So soon after eating? You’ll get indigestion...” He takes her hands and helps her up before starting to walk towards the lake, “Hmm, maybe you’re right. Just a walk then?” as he walks out on the water’s surface, not actually dropping beneath the surface. “That’s amazing! How’re you doing that?!” “A little bit similar to how I disrupt other people’s energy with my own, only I channel it through my feet instead.” He turns on the surface to face Sunday again. “So, you coming in?” he says, flashing a smile as he drops into the water. Sunday laughs and applauds, discarding her robe on the soft grass as she runs down to the lake’s edge. *** Midnight, 23rd Tarsahk, 1497Markas runs deftly and silently up the wall of the Order’s compound. Crouching at the top, he glances left and right, turning towards the shadowy street corner where he left Sunday and waves the all clear. A slight ripple, almost like a heat haze, detaches itself from the side of the shop and climbs to join the half-elf. Together, the two of them creep along the wall and hop across the gap to land on the roof of the barracks. Sunday leads Markas across the tiles and into the shrine-cum-watch tower at the apex of the building. A moment later, the night silence is shattered as the sounds of drum and pipe ring out. As soldiers and cadets tumble out into the compound and Conrad immediately trains his bow on the small wooden structure, Sunday grabs Markas’ hand and the pair vanish from view - reappearing in a shimmer of golden-green light on the rooftop of an empty building 500ft down the street. Laughing, the two clamber onto the back of eLk as he launches himself into the air on giant mossy wings.
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Post by Markas Virnala on Jun 7, 2020 17:17:14 GMT
Late afternoon, 26th Mirtul, 1497
The sound of Markas’ sword slicing through the air is suddenly cut off with a resonant ringing noise as Sunday catches the blade between her palms. Before she can move, however, he lashes out with a heel kick to Sunday’s temple, catching the Tiefling on the side of the head as she tries to duck out of its path. Shaking off the effects of the blow, Sunday darts inside Markas’ reach and drives the palm of her left hand into his stomach, the thin bracelet wrapped around her wrist glowing green-gold at the point of impact. The light expands to envelop her whole body, settling into a shimmering field outlining her form. The winded half-elf steps away, rolling his body for momentum to bring the sword back up in a broad swing and drive Sunday off. In the brief break, he finds his footing and rushes forward, bringing the sword back down and wide to follow through with his elbow as he passes. Riding the blow to her side, Sunday slams a snap-kick into Markas’ leg, the bracelet around her right ankle flaring with power as her foot smashes into his thigh. As the half-elf stumbles slightly, she aims two punches at his head in a quick left-right combo. Markas catches her left wrist and twists the blow away, but the second attack lands against his cheek and snaps his head back. He feels warmth pass through his body as Sunday strikes, the flash of the bracelet mingling with the smell of a summer breeze as she pirouettes away out of reach. He can’t help the wide grin that crosses his face as he shakes off the blow before giving chase after her. He sprints forward but leaps into the air before reaching her, spinning as he does to lash out with the blade in a flash of speed that catches Sunday off guard. Seeing the surprise on her face as she staggers backwards, he presses on, delivering a second slash before pushing her back further, planting himself and placing a strong kick to her torso. Feeling something twinge and bend in her chest, Sunday coughs and spits blood. She wipes a hand across her mouth before lunging forward to chop down with the edge of her hand at his sword arm. With the barest hint of movement, Markas leans aside as the attempt to disarm him passes wide; rebalancing his stance, he also evades the follow-up uppercut aimed at his jaw, tilting his head to one side as Sunday’s arm flies upwards. Half-smiling, half-snarling at Markas, Sunday kicks him viciously in the ankle like a petulant child lashing out at a parent. This time, as her attack connects, the bracelet on her ankle doesn’t just glow. This time, the stylised motifs of intricate tendrils and vines wrapped around each other in never-ending coils and spirals seem to pulse with energy; some of the delicately carved blossoms and buds opening and blooming in an array of colours - reds and purples and greens and yellows. He flinches back at the unexpected kick and the unexpected force of it, swinging his longsword out again more instinctively than aimed and catches Sunday a raking blow along the forearm as he steps back. He brings the sword high feigning an overhand strike, shifting at the last minute to swipe from an unexpected angle but isn’t fast enough this time to catch Sunday off guard as she ducks out of its path. He tries again quickly, this time aiming a swift kick at her calf before bringing the same leg higher, aiming for her head but the shimmering field protecting her body keeps his strikes at bay. Sunday steps back a pace, before mimicking Markas’ move from earlier by darting forward and leaping into the air, spinning in a tight arc as she goes. Her extended right leg catches the half-elf hard on the arm, the momentum of her blow carrying her around. Turning through 360 degrees, her left leg cracks into his chest, driving the air from his lungs. As she reaches the peak of her leap and starts to descend, Sunday wrenches herself around in mid-air a third and final time, the rosebud tip of her tail whipping out to slam into the side of Markas’ head as she twists and lands with her back to the half-elf. Behind her, Markas topples slowly backwards into the soft loam of the glade’s floor, eyes closed and blood pouring from his nose. *** Evening, 26th Mirtul, 1497
Having carried their dinner to top of the leviathan willow, Markas and Sunday perch side by side, looking out across the northern reaches of the Feythorn and watching the lights of Daring twinkle from the top of the hill where the town sits. After sitting and enjoying the scene for a short while, Markas turns to look around the surrounding area. “It’s nice being back out here for a change. With everything going on and the studying, I feel like we’ve been cooped up in the Mirror too long… funny really, the room there is much bigger than what I’ve ever had before.” “I’m glad you like it here. It’s yours, you know, as much as it is mine.” He smiles at the comment and kisses her softly before his face takes on a worried look, “Hopefully it will be still after all this is settled then. Things really seem to be hitting breaking point now. With the Devils cropping up around here, I don’t think we have long until we’re at war again.” Sunday smiles sadly at him. “We’re already at war, ‘Kas. Everything with the Vanguard; the seals; the hags… At least we know who we’re fighting now. Not that it’ll make stopping her any easier.” Sunday shivers as she turns to look out across the land once more. “This is going to be worse than anything we’ve seen. I don’t know what or who’ll be left afterwards.” “I know…” he trails off for a moment, staring at the horizon, “feels like it was only last week we were shipping off to K’ul Goran to join the war front and now the front has found its way here. There are so many people who have died or still might die for this bloody mess… It’s hard to know what I should even be doing or where I should be facing. We seem to always be facing impossible odds with no one at our backs but ourselves. Kinda makes me miss the simpler times, worrying about a few ‘Bandits’ bothering a farm or helping people build a fence… For the record, I was never any good at building fences. Just in case you think we should put one up around here at some point” ”No fences.” Sunday shakes her head. “I don’t like fences. Leave the glade open for anyone.” Markas leans in and whispers to Sunday, “I know, it was a joke”, before winking. Sunday smiles briefly. “Sorry, ‘Kas. I know. I know. I’m just so on edge at the moment. It’s not just the war. There’s something else I can’t put my finger on. Something we’ve missed.” She sighs, rubbing her hands across her face. “Maybe it’s just the scale of everything. Like you said: the odds seem insurmountable. Fighting a god? How can we even do that?” She shakes her head, platinum-and-green-flecked hair tied back in a ponytail. “I’ve heard some of the others talking about taking the fight to her. Like we’re just taking a stroll into town to settle a dispute between farmers.” “I don’t know… maybe not, but that doesn’t mean we can’t hold them off at least. Sometimes it’s not really about winning, just… surviving I guess.” “Or doing what we can to let others survive?” “Well, that’s why we’re here right? Otherwise, we could have just left a long time ago.” “I’ve thought about doing that, you know…” Sunday murmurs, guiltily. “Just climbing onto eLk’s back and leaving.” She looks at him in the darkness, an unspoken question in her eyes. “We could go anywhere, ‘Kas… You and me and eLk.” Markas looks into her eyes as she speaks before taking her hand. He can feel it trembling in his gentle grip. “Sun… I would love that. Being with you and living in peace is a perfect life I can imagine. But can you honestly say you would be happy to leave like this? I mean, it’s normal to think like that, even I do sometimes… But I know you. And I don’t think you would really be happy to leave like that… I would love to leave, right now and find our own place in the world but I couldn’t leave these people like this, our friends… Right now, I think our place is to be here and protect them.” As he speaks, Sunday feels Markas’ words wash over her, reassuring and calming, As he speaks, she realises it isn’t just his words that are warming her: his touch - his ki - is flowing gently into her form, melding with her own energy and bolstering her spirit. She begins to nod slowly as Markas finishes talking. “You’re right… You’re right.” Sunday exhales. “We can’t leave them. I’m sorry for suggesting it.” She squeezes his hand. “Thank you - and please don’t tell the others. I’m ashamed I was considering it.” “You shouldn’t feel ashamed. As much as it doesn’t feel like it sometimes with everything we go through, we are all just people too. And People worry. They care for their families. They want to avoid danger… Thinking about these things is normal, sweetie.” “How many times…” she mutters under her breath. “Don’t call me that…” He chuckles, “Ok! I won’t. I’m just teasing.” Markas turns to face Sunday directly, “But, Sun… I know it’s a lot we are dealing with. We can only ever do our best. And you should know, I will always be right there with you.” She shifts closer to him, a shade of worry tinging her words. “But we won’t, though, will we? Be right there with each other all the time, I mean.” She looks up at him again. “I’m off tomorrow. To K’ul Goran. We got a garbled request to help them with something. I don’t know how long it will take or when I’ll be back.” Her voice wavers a little. “I don’t know when I’ll see you again.” “Even so, I am still with you… Don’t think I didn't notice you using some of my own moves against me earlier. No matter where you go there is always going to be a part of me with you, Sunday.” He looks sad himself as he carries on, “I don’t know what's going to happen next but I do know one thing. No matter what happens, I will find you again.” Sunday reaches up and unwinds a strand of light-purple lavender wrapped around the bronze circlet nestled in her hair. Kneeling up, she weaves it into one of the longer tresses of Markas’ grey locks. “This’ll never die.” She says, patting it into place. “It’ll stay young and green.” She wraps her arms around Markas and kisses him. “I’ll always love you.”
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