{private with atlas}

This is an archived version of FeralFront. While you can surf through all the content that was ever created on FeralFront, no new content can be created.
If you'd like some free FeralFront memorabilia to look back on fondly, see this thread from Dynamo (if this message is still here, we still have memorabilia): https://feralfront.com/thread/2669184-free-feralfront-memorabilia/.

    I'm so so sorry this is terrible I will edit this when I get the chance but I didn't want you to wait any longer!


    My character (my first post will have the fancypost) is named Morrigan (Mor) Archeron.


    Where do you think you want to start?

    Okay, I was just asking because I didn't know if you wanted to start where our characters meet or if they already know each other a bit and your character has mine tagging along...?

    Sorry for taking so long to reply!
    Hmm... I feel if we started where they met it would be optimal? So we can get the feel for our two characters, develop their chemistry and relationship from the ground up? Does that makes sense?

    [align=center][fancypost bgcolor=#1c1c1c; border: none; width: 450px; height: 15px; padding: 0px; font-family: verdana; font-size: 10px; line-height: 14px; text-align: center; color: #e6e6e6; border-radius: 4px 4px 0px 0px]template by[color=#6e6e6e] #punki-chan[/fancypost][fancypost bgcolor=#2e2e2e; border: none; width: 450px; min-height: 300px; padding: 0px; padding-bottom: 10px][fancypost bgcolor=; border: none; border-bottom: 4px solid #1c1c1c; width: 450px; height: 200px; padding: 0px; background: url(http://65.media.tumblr.com/8ad…np8289NyM21rrrkde_500.gif) center][/fancypost][fancypost bgcolor=#1c1c1c; border: none; width: 350px; height: 55px; padding: 0px; margin-top: -30px; border-radius: 5px; font-family: baskerville old face; color: #e6e6e6; font-size: 20px; line-height: 45px; text-align: center; text-transform: uppercase; letter-spacing: -2px; margin-bottom: 10px]Morrigan "Mor" Archeron
    [fancypost bgcolor=; border: none; width: inherit; height: 10px; padding: 0px; font-size: 10px; line-height: 10px; text-transform: lowercase; letter-spacing: -1px; margin-top: -8px]24 | female [/fancypost][/fancypost][fancypost bgcolor=; border: none; width: 430px; min-height: 80px; padding: 0px; font-family: verdana; color: #e6e6e6; font-size: 9px; line-height: 12px; text-align: justify; text-transform: lowercase]
    [Yeah that works for me! I'll crank something out- let's say your character is making his way through some little village and he comes across Mor getting into a fight ?]


    Getting kicked out of her kingdom and being shipped off to "see the world" was honestly a blessing to Morrigan last year. She was the youngest in her family - her older brother being the rightful heir, and after him was her other older brother. She was third in line to the thrown, and even then, any male children her brothers had would be chosen over her to be king. That didn't matter to her, Morrigan scoffed at the idea of being queen, of being so....lady like. There were some parts to being a lady she enjoyed, getting dressed up and making men fall at her feet was quite entertaining. But she hated being so proper, and polite and formal.


    Mor had always been a little bit of an aggressive person, always wanting to fight and train with her brothers. So she sought out the fighting pits in the slums of her kingdom. There she learned hand to hand combat, and where she met the king of assassins. She had been fifteen when he began training her in secret. Morrigan''s parents had no idea about it, the nights she'd spend exhausting herself, learning how to be a trained killer. She had kept it a secret for eight years - yep, eight years as the king of assassin''s best student. Rumors got out, spread like wildfire throughout the kingdom and reached her parents. Oh boy, they were FURIOUS. They immediately told her she needed to leave; they couldnt have the kingdom thinking they had a stone cold assassin as part of the family. It hurt, having to leave - she did care for her family but knowing what she could do, they banished her. It only led her back into the arms of the king of assassins, and she began traveling like her parents said - but to learn new fighting styles. As well as...be an assassin. So much for sending her off with a bunch of money to redeem herself, think about her life.


    Morrigan was never going back. If her parents threw her out that easily, she was an irrelevant child in the first place. Why should she ever go back? The young woman had made her way to a small village practically in the middle of nowhere. She had been rather bored, but this was the best tavern around, according to locals, so she curiously checked it out. Of course, though, Morrigan''s anger over a conversation the men in a local tavern were having didn't sit well with her - they were speaking nasty, horrid things about women, and her stupid mind decided to challenge them. That was how the assassin found herself surrounded by about six drunken men, most soldiers, taking on all of them. She'd managed to knock two unconscious already, but four at once? It wasn't exactly easy. Her eyes darted for a way out, to run and take them out that way, but they had surrounded her well. Morrigan, however, knew that she could still take them. She just wouldn't get out of this unscathed.

    [/fancypost][/fancypost]

    The post was edited 1 time, last by galathynius ().

    [align=center][fancypost bgcolor=; border: 2px solid white; width: 450px; height: 365px; background-image: url(http://wallpapercave.com/wp/2ubS0q9.jpg); background-size: 140%; background-position: center;]

    [fancypost bgcolor=; border: 4px solid white; border-radius: 10px 10px 0px 10px; width: 90px; height: 120px; background-image: url(https://s-media-cache-ak0.pini…7eedd08aa8cdfa17fd8e9.jpg); background-size: 105%; background-position: center; margin-top: -2px; margin-left: -55px;][/fancypost] [fancypost bgcolor=white; border: none; width: 360px; height: 25px; margin-left: -5px; margin-top: 10px;][/fancypost][fancypost borderwidth=0px; width: 365px; font-size: 17px; color: black; letter-spacing: -2px; margin-top: -31px; margin-left: -10px;][align=left]"Handsomely roguish or roguishly handsome?"[/fancypost][fancypost bgcolor=white; border: 1px solid grey; width: 383px; height: 311px; overflow: auto; padding: 5px; text-align: justify; font-size: 11px; color: black; line-height: 11px; margin-top: 4px; margin-left: -8px;]He had a spirit of superiority in his gait and the light of intelligence in his eyes. A simple glance measured him up to one of the most worldly of men; a man who had traveled far and wide and seen much in his brief twenty eight years on this earth. From village to village, town to town, city to city, one simple question was always unburied among the many. Who was he? Perhaps the son of a wealthy lord - that would explain the pristine armor and weaponry he carried on his person. Or, maybe, a merchant of sorts? He bore an accent that spoke whispers of kingdoms beyond their own, speaking tales of all the people he had met on his travels. But what merchant sold no goods?
    Either could not be further from the truth of his manner.
    He was a crook, a scoundrel - a jack of many trades and an abuser of many. A fox that conned and stole right out from the nose of others; however, always leaving a smile on the faces he left. Selling faux paintings, charming a young noblewomen out of their fortune, he was skilled in the art of earning a pretty penny. The life of a bastard often did that to the stronger of the children thrown into its jaws. It consumed them, or spat them out poised and ready for anything an everything. Threndious learned from a young age one was on their own, thievery was his mistress from the beginning. As he aged it became an art he perfected. It was fruitful in its bearing, offering a luxurious life of travel - something he was rather keen on. It was scarce that the thought of settling down crossed his mind. Commitment was never in his line-up.
    It was that unwillingness to staunch that had forced Thren out of the last city to fall prey to his doings. A nobleman whom he had grown close enough to enjoy the treasures of capturing the eye of the wealthy had decided he was keen on the eye of... taking it up a notch. As much money as it may have brought into his pockets, it would be a bad con should when he leave the victim be saddened. And so, he left.
    Perhaps it was to Morrigan's luck - or perhaps not - that Thren had been in the tavern that night. It was his first night in this village. In his routine he fell to the commonwealth's gathering place to get a feel for the people, to catch the names he needed to know of possible victims and of those he needed to avoid. It was an unfortunate truth that he wouldn't get the chance. Through hazed and slightly intoxicated eyes he watched the conflict between the woman and few drunkards. As fell as she was to drop two of her assailants, she seemed to have hesitated as the realization of her situation settled on her. She was cornered. Like a caged tiger she could fight her way out, perhaps not to her best interest, however.
    Thren's gaze swept the faces of the spectators, looking to see if someone was willing to step up to the plate and defend her. It wasn't as though he was incapable himself. A thief doesn't go as far as he had without getting in a fight or two. While he preferred distance - a bow and an arrow was the smart man's weapon, he found - he could fell an enemy sure as any solider with a broadsword. It was his personal preference to abstain from witless bar fights. But as he looked on, the drunkards pressing in, he found himself rising to his feet.
    "Let us quit while we are ahead, shall we?" Thren's voice ran clear, sweet and sultry as he shouldered his way up to the woman's aid. His visage easily pointed him to be a formidable opponent, standing just below 6'1, broad through the shoulders and thick in the arms. "If everyone say's their sorry's, I'm sure we could all get out of here the best of friends with a pleasing lack of bruises, hmm?" He glanced between the parties, thick brow arched.

    [align=center][fancypost bgcolor=#1c1c1c; border: none; width: 450px; height: 15px; padding: 0px; font-family: verdana; font-size: 10px; line-height: 14px; text-align: center; color: #e6e6e6; border-radius: 4px 4px 0px 0px]template by[color=#6e6e6e] #punki-chan[/fancypost][fancypost bgcolor=#2e2e2e; border: none; width: 450px; min-height: 300px; padding: 0px; padding-bottom: 10px][fancypost bgcolor=; border: none; border-bottom: 4px solid #1c1c1c; width: 450px; height: 200px; padding: 0px; background: url(http://65.media.tumblr.com/8ad…np8289NyM21rrrkde_500.gif) center][/fancypost][fancypost bgcolor=#1c1c1c; border: none; width: 350px; height: 55px; padding: 0px; margin-top: -30px; border-radius: 5px; font-family: baskerville old face; color: #e6e6e6; font-size: 20px; line-height: 45px; text-align: center; text-transform: uppercase; letter-spacing: -2px; margin-bottom: 10px]Morrigan "Mor" Archeron
    [fancypost bgcolor=; border: none; width: inherit; height: 10px; padding: 0px; font-size: 10px; line-height: 10px; text-transform: lowercase; letter-spacing: -1px; margin-top: -8px]24 | female [/fancypost][/fancypost][fancypost bgcolor=; border: none; width: 430px; min-height: 80px; padding: 0px; font-family: verdana; color: #e6e6e6; font-size: 9px; line-height: 12px; text-align: justify; text-transform: lowercase]
    Mor had absolutely no idea why she was picking a fight, wasting her energy fighting a bunch of drunken fools. She might have made it seem that she was weak, unable to take down four men at once - but that was part of her trick. They always underestimated a woman. Morrigan wasn't just any woman though - she was a highly skilled assassin, training over years and years. She'd been through a lot, and perhaps this silly bar fight was surpressed anger. Or the fact she was so utterly bored in this god forsaken village that she just wanted to have a little fun. A wicked grin spread across her face as her hands slid to the hilts of the daggers on either side of her hips - but it dissolved at the sound of a clear, deep male voice.


    The assassin's blue-green eyes flickered to the owner of that voice, another guest of the tavern that night. She one-up'd him, and snorted at how entitled he presented himself to the drunks before her. Morrigan was almost insulted he interrupted, him thinking she needed to be saved. Oh boy if the handsome stranger only knew. Yes- he was handsome, and strikngly so as she stole another studious glance. Perhaps it was fine he thought her vulnerable, maybe she could use it to her advantage that night, enjoy herself a little. That thought was quickly pushed away though-what on earth was she thinking? "What are you, the tavern owners personal guard?" Morrigan asked, raising her brows, but let her hands move away from the daggers, arms folding instead across her chest. "I only wanted a little fun," her pink lips upturned in a small pout, before it turned into a snarl as she stepped closer to her opponents. "If I hear you utter another syllable about what you and your men would do to the nice woman serving you, I'll make sure you won't have the body parts to even try," she spat in his face, and then whirled around, shooting a glare at the man who'd interrupted her fight.


    "I hope you don't expect a thanks. I could have handled that myself," Morrigan's eyes shifted towards the tavern owner, who looked outraged she'd caused a commotion. By his facial expression, she could tell she was no longer wanted. Morrigan shot him a grin before stomping towards the door, purposefully stepping on the hand of one of the men she'd knocked out on the floor - beginning to come to. Before leaving, she heard the tavern owner speak up again. "All of you out or to your rooms. The bar's closed," groans of discontent followed and Morrigan snorted, stepping out into the dark street of the village. Her mind drifted back to the man who'd stood up to help - she didn't have to be so rude to him, it wasn't exactly often anyone did that, but still, Morrigan was too proud. She did hover outside the tavern, wondering if he'd be a part of the crowd slipping outside.
    [/fancypost][/fancypost]

    The post was edited 1 time, last by galathynius ().

    [align=center][fancypost bgcolor=; border: 2px solid white; width: 450px; height: 365px; background-image: url(http://wallpapercave.com/wp/2ubS0q9.jpg); background-size: 140%; background-position: center;]

    [fancypost bgcolor=; border: 4px solid white; border-radius: 10px 10px 0px 10px; width: 90px; height: 120px; background-image: url(https://s-media-cache-ak0.pini…7eedd08aa8cdfa17fd8e9.jpg); background-size: 105%; background-position: center; margin-top: -2px; margin-left: -55px;][/fancypost] [fancypost bgcolor=white; border: none; width: 360px; height: 25px; margin-left: -5px; margin-top: 10px;][/fancypost][fancypost borderwidth=0px; width: 365px; font-size: 17px; color: black; letter-spacing: -2px; margin-top: -31px; margin-left: -10px;][align=left]"Handsomely roguish or roguishly handsome?"[/fancypost][fancypost bgcolor=white; border: 1px solid grey; width: 383px; height: 311px; overflow: auto; padding: 5px; text-align: justify; font-size: 11px; color: black; line-height: 11px; margin-top: 4px; margin-left: -8px;]She had scoffed at him. Belittling his efforts of helping her, comparing him to a meager guard. Perhaps when he was a younger man he would have let it get to him, but now? Especially here? As far as he was concerned, this woman was just as drunk as the men she squabbled with.
    "I prefer the term 'heroic savior'." Thren commented in a quiet aside, nevertheless, he stepped aside as the woman lurched her last barrage on the bumbling heathens. Through his slit gaze he marveled the spectacle of her lash of tongue - and the period to her sentence, she spat right into the face of one of them. Unamused, the man turned his gaze back to the bar. People were staring blank faced at the scene. This was probably the most action they had seen in this small village in weeks.
    She earned his attention once more when she addressed him directly. "I hope you don't expect a thanks. I could have handled that myself," she grunted before making her valiant exit. Maker, wasn't she just a blessing. Thren allowed a steadied exhale to push through his lips. Such as it was. Nothing he could do if she was ungrateful; he had done his part in defusing the situation. His head shook and he turned back to his drink, already readying himself for a long night of drinking when the barkeep announced every soul in the place had to leave.
    As he was told, no rest for the wicked, but dammit he would finish his drink. People mulled towards the exit, fumbling over others and themselves. Normally he would find light in watching the drunken horde stagger towards the entrance, like the saddest, unintimidating mob ever. However, tonight, he found his mood a bit dampened. Between his ungrateful princess and his lost chance of information - and now not even getting to drink? Well, he was a bit bitter. With a deep sigh he tipped his head back, throwing down the last of his drink he ambled towards the exit, being one of the last to exit.
    Thren was thankful for the fresh air. After spending a few hours in a tavern, one forgets what crisp air is like after being in the stuffy, muggy, ale-smelling atmosphere. It was a cool night - cool enough for him to see the steam of his breath in front of him. It didn't much effect him, however, as he cinched his cloak onto his shoulders. The kingdom was frosted over this time of year, but his body adorned in lavish fabrics and armor stayed warm. A blessing coin allowed, opposed to the peasants who often had to suffer through.
    His gaze shifted westward. The inn he occupied was one village over, the best way to keep appearances down as he preyed. Thoughtfully he rubbed the scruff of his face with the palm of his hand. If he went by horse he would get there in a little under and hour - problem being he didn't have a horse. But if he took a horse...

    [align=center][fancypost bgcolor=#1c1c1c; border: none; width: 450px; height: 15px; padding: 0px; font-family: verdana; font-size: 10px; line-height: 14px; text-align: center; color: #e6e6e6; border-radius: 4px 4px 0px 0px]template by[color=#6e6e6e] #punki-chan[/fancypost][fancypost bgcolor=#2e2e2e; border: none; width: 450px; min-height: 300px; padding: 0px; padding-bottom: 10px][fancypost bgcolor=; border: none; border-bottom: 4px solid #1c1c1c; width: 450px; height: 200px; padding: 0px; background: url(http://65.media.tumblr.com/8ad…np8289NyM21rrrkde_500.gif) center][/fancypost][fancypost bgcolor=#1c1c1c; border: none; width: 350px; height: 55px; padding: 0px; margin-top: -30px; border-radius: 5px; font-family: baskerville old face; color: #e6e6e6; font-size: 20px; line-height: 45px; text-align: center; text-transform: uppercase; letter-spacing: -2px; margin-bottom: 10px]Morrigan "Mor" Archeron
    [fancypost bgcolor=; border: none; width: inherit; height: 10px; padding: 0px; font-size: 10px; line-height: 10px; text-transform: lowercase; letter-spacing: -1px; margin-top: -8px]24 | female [/fancypost][/fancypost][fancypost bgcolor=; border: none; width: 430px; min-height: 80px; padding: 0px; font-family: verdana; color: #e6e6e6; font-size: 9px; line-height: 12px; text-align: justify; text-transform: lowercase]
    Mor flipped up her hood as people began to spill out of the tavern, not wanting the men she'd challenged to start another brawl with her out there. So she side stepped more into the shadows. None of them noticed her as they filed past,heading to wherever they'd be sleeping that night. Mor was good at blending in, pretending she didn't exist- was good at being a loner. Though, she hated being lonely.


    The young woman was not looking forward to her trek across the village to her room back at the inn. The night was still young, the stars shined brightly in the sky - she noted. The stars were her favorite thing - unchanging for the most part. Always there looking down. Morrigan laughed at herself then, shaking her head. No need to get sappy.


    She pulled out a dagger, absentmindedly passing it from hand to hand as she began to head away from the tavern to the inn when her "heroic savior" slipped outside. Morrigan didn't get much of a good look at him in there, didn't care at all to considering most of her focus had been elsewhere. But she could see now his clothes were very expensive - much more than hers. Then again she didnt need to waste money on lavish clothes. Eyebrows raised, the assassin stepped over to him, walking a wide arc in front of him. "So what are you? A lord? Assassin? Merchant?" she let the hood pull back a little, the moon providing the only light to show who she was.


    "Or perhaps even a knight? Could explain why you felt the need to be a heroic savior " Morrigan mocked him, using the tip of her dagger to clean dirt from under her nails, though her eyes remained fixed on him. She had no need to bother this man other than to satisfy her own curiosity. And hey, maybe he could be a potential client, needing someone killed.
    [/fancypost][/fancypost]

    The post was edited 1 time, last by galathynius ().

    [align=center][fancypost bgcolor=; border: 2px solid white; width: 450px; height: 365px; background-image: url(http://wallpapercave.com/wp/2ubS0q9.jpg); background-size: 140%; background-position: center;]

    [fancypost bgcolor=; border: 4px solid white; border-radius: 10px 10px 0px 10px; width: 90px; height: 120px; background-image: url(https://s-media-cache-ak0.pini…7eedd08aa8cdfa17fd8e9.jpg); background-size: 105%; background-position: center; margin-top: -2px; margin-left: -55px;][/fancypost] [fancypost bgcolor=white; border: none; width: 360px; height: 25px; margin-left: -5px; margin-top: 10px;][/fancypost][fancypost borderwidth=0px; width: 365px; font-size: 17px; color: black; letter-spacing: -2px; margin-top: -31px; margin-left: -10px;][align=left]"Handsomely roguish or roguishly handsome?"[/fancypost][fancypost bgcolor=white; border: 1px solid grey; width: 383px; height: 311px; overflow: auto; padding: 5px; text-align: justify; font-size: 11px; color: black; line-height: 11px; margin-top: 4px; margin-left: -8px;]His mind had been muddled in the thoughts of how he would theft himself a steed that he failed to noticed the woman sliding up to him until she had crossed his eyes. Normally Thren would have been far more of a challenge to creep up on - yet his slightly tipsy state had left his mind a bit... One-tracked. Working through his plan had left him a bit blindsided by her sudden reveal. However, his face remained placid and betrayed no signs of being surprised. Cool and collected he listened to her copious assumptions, honey gaze dryly meeting her own.
    "If it isn't the woman who fancied herself to ruin everyone's night." Threndious' tone was light in the atmosphere, his cadence peppered with a smooth and silky accent. In the glint of the moonlight a slight grin pinched his cheeks. "Am I the light of your career evaluations? Oh, joy of joys." It was a question he was used to answering; yet, people were never so direct in the fashion they inquired.
    Mindlessly he pulled on his gloves. He played the part of disinterest. "You are dismissing hallmarks of both the utterly ineffectual and the incredibly dangerous." Cloak and dagger speech. An indirect and ominous answer, an answer polished after hundreds of times of being used. Over the rise of his brow he looked up at the woman, the way she mindlessly twisted the dagger in her fingers like it was another limb to her person. In thought his jaw jutted out as he mended pieces together. One does not go so far in the conning world without encountering a sellsword or two. Or many. Nevertheless, her presence made him nervous. "Coins flow when I speak, and when I shut up."

    || sorry, rushed, on mobile ||

    [align=center][fancypost bgcolor=#1c1c1c; border: none; width: 450px; height: 15px; padding: 0px; font-family: verdana; font-size: 10px; line-height: 14px; text-align: center; color: #e6e6e6; border-radius: 4px 4px 0px 0px]template by[color=#6e6e6e] #punki-chan[/fancypost][fancypost bgcolor=#2e2e2e; border: none; width: 450px; min-height: 300px; padding: 0px; padding-bottom: 10px][fancypost bgcolor=; border: none; border-bottom: 4px solid #1c1c1c; width: 450px; height: 200px; padding: 0px; background: url(http://65.media.tumblr.com/8ad…np8289NyM21rrrkde_500.gif) center][/fancypost][fancypost bgcolor=#1c1c1c; border: none; width: 350px; height: 55px; padding: 0px; margin-top: -30px; border-radius: 5px; font-family: baskerville old face; color: #e6e6e6; font-size: 20px; line-height: 45px; text-align: center; text-transform: uppercase; letter-spacing: -2px; margin-bottom: 10px]Morrigan "Mor" Archeron
    [fancypost bgcolor=; border: none; width: inherit; height: 10px; padding: 0px; font-size: 10px; line-height: 10px; text-transform: lowercase; letter-spacing: -1px; margin-top: -8px]24 | female [/fancypost][/fancypost][fancypost bgcolor=; border: none; width: 430px; min-height: 80px; padding: 0px; font-family: verdana; color: #e6e6e6; font-size: 9px; line-height: 12px; text-align: justify; text-transform: lowercase]
    Mor truly had no business speaking with this man, in fact she was still trying to figure out why she had even bothered. Perhaps it was intrigue, or the fact he was the first interesting thing to appear in this town after she spent a week here. she hadn't intended to stay so long - this town was horrible and there were plenty of other towns and villages to see. However, her horse was spooked and ran off into the woods, only to be attacked by a wolf. The assassin killed the wolf, but ended up having to slaughter the horse as it was too injured to be saved. So, Morrigan was stuck trying to acquire a new steed. Most of the horses in the town belonged to the farmers, and this town was dirt poor. She knew how important animals were to farmers, so shed been waiting for new people to pass through town so she could steal theres. No such luck thus far, and Mor was planning on just walking to the next main village, if it got her out of there.


    Anywho- yes - this man was the one bit of interesting the town had. Perhaps he had a horse, if he had all thes lavish clothing. When he spoke up again, upset with her for ruining his night. "The night is still young, dear sir. Who said anything was ruined? Find another tavern, or perhaps the brothel around the corner would be more to your liking," she twirled the dagger around her hand now - not even thinking while doing it, not noting the slight discomfort from the male. If Morrigan had noted it, it would only boost her ego.


    "Why must you speak in such riddles," Morrigan groaned and glanced up at the sky briefly, huffing before placing her gaze down at the older male, studying him intently. The style of clothing he wore suggested he was foreign to the area - it almost reminded her of the royal attire in her homeland, but it had been so long since she'd been home that she wasn't even sure who ruled. Nor did she particularly care. Still, there was something familiar about him. "You sound like a bloody oracle, or fortune teller," she eventually sheathed the dagger in her belt.


    Morrigan had been about to speak up again - offer her services should he need it when there was the sound of multiple hoofbeats coming down the road. The female stiffened as she shifted her attention down the road, seeing the men in black armor, red cloaks slowing their horses as they rounded into town. She cursed, loudly, and then began backing away, into the shadows, needing to get away. You see Morrigan carried out a contract the week before, killing one of the men of the group now in this village. "Search everywhere," one of the men hissed.


    Morrigan swore again, knowing these men were her to enact vengeance for their fallen comrade. "Tell them nothing or I will find you, and you will regret it," she managed to say to the stranger and frantically searched for the quickest way out of the atea without alerting the party of her location.
    [/fancypost][/fancypost]

    [align=center][fancypost bgcolor=; border: 2px solid white; width: 450px; height: 365px; background-image: url(http://wallpapercave.com/wp/2ubS0q9.jpg); background-size: 140%; background-position: center;]

    [fancypost bgcolor=; border: 4px solid white; border-radius: 10px 10px 0px 10px; width: 90px; height: 120px; background-image: url(https://s-media-cache-ak0.pini…7eedd08aa8cdfa17fd8e9.jpg); background-size: 105%; background-position: center; margin-top: -2px; margin-left: -55px;][/fancypost] [fancypost bgcolor=white; border: none; width: 360px; height: 25px; margin-left: -5px; margin-top: 10px;][/fancypost][fancypost borderwidth=0px; width: 365px; font-size: 17px; color: black; letter-spacing: -2px; margin-top: -31px; margin-left: -10px;][align=left]"Handsomely roguish or roguishly handsome?"[/fancypost][fancypost bgcolor=white; border: 1px solid grey; width: 383px; height: 311px; overflow: auto; padding: 5px; text-align: justify; font-size: 11px; color: black; line-height: 11px; margin-top: 4px; margin-left: -8px;]Thren took pause, his ears picking up the sounds of hostile voices in the crisp winter air. Rigid as a golem he stood, for the quickest of moments, thinking they were perhaps under hunt for him. It wouldn't be the first time someone called for his head, however rare it might have been. But then he saw the woman's adverse reaction, her words a hiss in his ears.
    Now, it was far from commonplace that Thren lend any help. Unless he saw something of benefit. And as he looked at the yet nameless woman before him he saw nothing but opportunity. The sudden dump of adrenaline that had been brought by hearing the men's voices in the quiet of the village did nothing short of sobering him up.
    His voice was low when he spoke again. "My dear, I never do anything I could regret." Threndious crooned as he shed the cloak from his shoulders. It was hefty. Heavy and well-tailored, the black wool did well for two things: warmth, and disappearing. How many a times had he made his away in the dead of night? He thatched it to her shoulders, standing erect as he scanned the area, searching for an escape opportunity.
    There were a few options he dabbled with. Offer a distraction, allowing this woman to make her swift exit, or steal a steed right from under them. A distraction would have been easier, of course, but allowing her to escape would give him nothing in return. She could flee and never see him again and that reward would slip right through his fingers, and Maker, he couldn't have that.
    But he also didn't want to kill a soul.
    The mounted horsemen made their parting, separating into factions in search for their bounty. "Allow me the pleasure to help save your hide once again," Thren's eyes didn't leave the horsemen, trailing their silhouettes in the darkness of the night. "For old time's sake." Using slow and cautious movements he pulled the bow from its hook upon his back. The man dropped into the shadows; that lovely white armor would be a beacon in the moonlight should he allow it.
    This village was foreign to him. He didn't know its paths and alleyways. He only prayed this woman knew more of the map than he - however, she seemed to be just as much as a visitor to this place as he. Brow knitted he looked towards the stranger, readying an arrow, yet he did not loose it. If they could get out without someone meeting the Maker, he would be happy.
    "I don't suppose you've a horse?"

    [align=center][fancypost bgcolor=#1c1c1c; border: none; width: 450px; height: 15px; padding: 0px; font-family: verdana; font-size: 10px; line-height: 14px; text-align: center; color: #e6e6e6; border-radius: 4px 4px 0px 0px]template by[color=#6e6e6e] #punki-chan[/fancypost][fancypost bgcolor=#2e2e2e; border: none; width: 450px; min-height: 300px; padding: 0px; padding-bottom: 10px][fancypost bgcolor=; border: none; border-bottom: 4px solid #1c1c1c; width: 450px; height: 200px; padding: 0px; background: url(http://65.media.tumblr.com/8ad…np8289NyM21rrrkde_500.gif) center][/fancypost][fancypost bgcolor=#1c1c1c; border: none; width: 350px; height: 55px; padding: 0px; margin-top: -30px; border-radius: 5px; font-family: baskerville old face; color: #e6e6e6; font-size: 20px; line-height: 45px; text-align: center; text-transform: uppercase; letter-spacing: -2px; margin-bottom: 10px]Morrigan "Mor" Archeron
    [fancypost bgcolor=; border: none; width: inherit; height: 10px; padding: 0px; font-size: 10px; line-height: 10px; text-transform: lowercase; letter-spacing: -1px; margin-top: -8px]24 | female [/fancypost][/fancypost][fancypost bgcolor=; border: none; width: 430px; min-height: 80px; padding: 0px; font-family: verdana; color: #e6e6e6; font-size: 9px; line-height: 12px; text-align: justify; text-transform: lowercase]
    In the midst of her mind searching for some sort of escape route, she'd nearly missed the male placong his cloak on her small shoulders. Never - she never would have let him gotten that close if she'd been paying attention. A glare and near snarl came from the girl, but she nevertheless accepted the cloak. It was rather warm, as a matter of fact, and she almost hoped this stranger didn't expect her to return it.


    Something was going through this males mind as he looked at her, almost debating with himself what to do. Her head tilted at his words, and she smirked. He was clever - like her, and just as arrogant. Perhaps he wasn't so unbearable after all. Her attention on him now was what was keeping her from fleeing right then and there, he seemed to be planning.


    A snort escaped her at his next words. "You did not save me from anything before; I am a highly skilled killer, I can take care of myself," Morrigan glanced behind her, and into the alleyway, mind going over the best possible rout to save themselves. glanced back as the man pulled out a bow, and naturally Mor admired the weapon; it was well crafted, with good wood and a strong bow string. Envy sparked inside her but she let that die; there was no use being jealous.

    "My horse met an untimely death, I'm sorry to say," Morrigan replied, and her eyes darted around the area once again. "I may be able to get you one, though," the woman clenched and unclenched her fists. Morrigan's eyes darted to the ground nearby, and she went over, removing the metal grate from the ground. "I have an idea. Though it does involve getting a little dirty..." Morrigan shot him a grin before lowering herself into the hole in the ground - into the sewers.


    It was dark, very dark down there. She probably should have thought about that before going down - but there were other grates and entrances to the sewers, where moonlight shone through, but just faintly. Morrigan''s eyes slowly began to adjust - though her nose took a little while longer. It reeked, and she breathed through her mouth only to make it a little less disgusting. The sewers led around the small village - she'd used them before to plan a sneak attack. That was ideally her plan, to find some of them split off - and they would split off - sneak attack from below, and then steal a horse and get out of the village.
    [/fancypost][/fancypost]

    The post was edited 1 time, last by galathynius ().

    [align=center][fancypost bgcolor=; border: 2px solid white; width: 450px; height: 365px; background-image: url(http://wallpapercave.com/wp/2ubS0q9.jpg); background-size: 140%; background-position: center;]

    [fancypost bgcolor=; border: 4px solid white; border-radius: 10px 10px 0px 10px; width: 90px; height: 120px; background-image: url(https://s-media-cache-ak0.pini…7eedd08aa8cdfa17fd8e9.jpg); background-size: 105%; background-position: center; margin-top: -2px; margin-left: -55px;][/fancypost] [fancypost bgcolor=white; border: none; width: 360px; height: 25px; margin-left: -5px; margin-top: 10px;][/fancypost][fancypost borderwidth=0px; width: 365px; font-size: 17px; color: black; letter-spacing: -2px; margin-top: -31px; margin-left: -10px;][align=left]"Handsomely roguish or roguishly handsome?"[/fancypost][fancypost bgcolor=white; border: 1px solid grey; width: 383px; height: 311px; overflow: auto; padding: 5px; text-align: justify; font-size: 11px; color: black; line-height: 11px; margin-top: 4px; margin-left: -8px;]Thren hesitated; realistically, who wouldn't? He was a man of finery. Luxury and refinement, not sewers in the dark of night with some strange woman. Anything this woman had to offer - would it truly be worth it? Probably not. Yet, he found himself in too deep to back out now. With distain he lowered himself down after her.
    The stench hit him like a sack of bricks, but with it came bitter memories of childhood. Sleeping in the stables of an adoptive kin who had been so kind to extend their home to him. Never again did he want to suffer through that wretched scent, and yet there he was. In the darkness he exhaled sharply in the attempt to blow the initial blast of the stench from his lungs, but to no avail. Each breath took it deeper and deeper into his chest, coating his throat like tar.
    "You've certainly got a way to go about things, sunshine." the tall man grunted sharply, utterly disgusted by all of the events that had led up to this awful moment. As his eyes grew accustom to the darkness, gulping in what little light there was, Threndious threaded his arrow back into its quiver. There would be no using it here.
    Dryly he casted his hand down into the darkness. "Lead on. Assuming you've a mind."
    If someone had told him that by helping this woman in that tavern would have led him into the sewers, he certainly would have left her to scrap it out. The more his mind bitterly sifted though the situation the more he grew steadfast in the truth. No matter what he could get from this arrangement, it would never make up for this. As soon as he got back to the inn, he was due for a seeping and scalding bath. Thren had encountered much in his traveling lifestyle, but he could say with certainty, never had he stooped so low as to make an escape undercity. And never would he again.

    OK so for some reason I thought you said you wanted muse 1 and now I'm sitting here like damnit. I'm going to rearrange my charaters history a little bit so that she's the royal omg I feel like an idiot give me a moment to edit the original post, and then give you a new one to reply to this so it makes slightly more sense.

    I can easily make my character muse 1! I made two story lines for him, it would take very little tweaking from me, if you'd like to keep it the way you thought!

    [align=center][fancypost bgcolor=#1c1c1c; border: none; width: 450px; height: 15px; padding: 0px; font-family: verdana; font-size: 10px; line-height: 14px; text-align: center; color: #e6e6e6; border-radius: 4px 4px 0px 0px]template by[color=#6e6e6e] #punki-chan[/fancypost][fancypost bgcolor=#2e2e2e; border: none; width: 450px; min-height: 300px; padding: 0px; padding-bottom: 10px][fancypost bgcolor=; border: none; border-bottom: 4px solid #1c1c1c; width: 450px; height: 200px; padding: 0px; background: url(http://65.media.tumblr.com/8ad…np8289NyM21rrrkde_500.gif) center][/fancypost][fancypost bgcolor=#1c1c1c; border: none; width: 350px; height: 55px; padding: 0px; margin-top: -30px; border-radius: 5px; font-family: baskerville old face; color: #e6e6e6; font-size: 20px; line-height: 45px; text-align: center; text-transform: uppercase; letter-spacing: -2px; margin-bottom: 10px]Morrigan "Mor" Archeron
    [fancypost bgcolor=; border: none; width: inherit; height: 10px; padding: 0px; font-size: 10px; line-height: 10px; text-transform: lowercase; letter-spacing: -1px; margin-top: -8px]24 | female [/fancypost][/fancypost][fancypost bgcolor=; border: none; width: 430px; min-height: 80px; padding: 0px; font-family: verdana; color: #e6e6e6; font-size: 9px; line-height: 12px; text-align: justify; text-transform: lowercase]
    [Alright I fixed the history of my first post here. Mor was sent away from the kingdom because she trained with the assassin king and it looked bad on the family. So she left and continued carrying that life out anyways. Then she can find out about the kingdom later]


    Morrigan was surprised he was even following her still. He could have left at any moment, run off and save his own arse. Perhaps he really needed this horse, or whatever. She still laughed to herself quietly as he appeared down in the sewers. It did reek down there, but, traveling on the roofs would make them noticible. Down underground? Not so much. It would probably take multiple baths to get the stench off of her skin, but the thrill and the fun of sneaking up on the guards might be worth it. At least for her, probably not for this stranger from the bar. Glancing back at him, eyes still adjusting to the dark, she could see the look of disgust on his face.


    "Apologies, it was a last minute idea," Morrigan replied after his grunt of disapproval, and she motioned for him to follow, walking quickly, though she walled carefully enough so that barely a sound came from her feet. "I've lost my mind years ago, sunshine " she tossed back the nickname right at him, and then she went silent, listening intently above for sounds of hoof-beats, and voices.


    She walked along the side, not stepping into the ranking river of sludge beside them, avoiding the rats as best she could. The young woman paused, tilting her head as she picked up on the sounds of a horse moving at a regular pace on the streets above. She reached the nearest pot hole/grate in the ground and used the ladder to climb up, peering through. She couldn't see much, so she risked slowly moving the metal aside, trying to make as little noise as possible before popping her head up, peering around. There! Not far off were two men. One on horseback, the other with his horse tied to a post as he began searching alleyways. Neither of them were looking this way, and the young woman pulled herself out of the hole. "Hurry, they're not looking," she whispered down, and quickly got behind a wall, peeking around, watching the two. Morrigan picked up a piece of garbage from the ground, paused a few moments, then tossed it across the way.

    That got the attention of the one on horseback - the one on foot was out of range to hear. The horseman turned towards where she had thrown the trash - between two buildings in the village. "Keep an eye out for the other one - watch my back okay?" Morrigan told the male and then tipoed off, sneakily and silently following. In a swift movement, Morrigan had a dagger in her hand, and she knocked out the guard with its hilt. His horse whinied in surprise, and Morrigan whirled around to the creature, glaring. "Rolfe?" A voice called- the other guard making his way back, and soon he was in view, seeing the assassin and his unconscious comrad on the ground. "I FOU-" was all the man said as the dagger lodged in his chest. Morrigan hadn't planned on killing any more of these men tonight, but...


    Morrigan swung onto the horse - which didn't seem all that happy at first, but she managed to make it head back over to where she'd left the stranger. "Quick- get on. I can hear the rest of them coming!" In fact, the shouts and sounds of more horses coming their way echoed off the stone walls of the buildings around them.

    [/fancypost][/fancypost]

    aтlaѕ wrote:


    I can easily make my character muse 1! I made two story lines for him, it would take very little tweaking from me, if you'd like to keep it the way you thought!


    Nono it's fine I fixed it up. I had a plan for muse 1 and then completely forgot about it.