Ein Treffen von alten ?Freunden? steht an. Und noch ein Ausflug von “Crescent kann sich nicht erklären warum Lunar überall so unbekümmert hinläuft” (448 Wörter)
Der Nebel war, gefühlt, immer über der Stadt und die meisten Leute von außerhalb mieden es, viel Geld bei sich zu tragen da Riminis Ruf weit verbreitet war. Und doch gab es die Leute die es, genau wegen ihrem Ruf, immer wieder dorthin zieht.
Crescent sah sich immer wieder um, ihre Hand auf dem Dolch den sie in ihrer Jacke versteckt hatte.
“Bist du dir sicher, dass wir hierher kommen hätten sollen?”, fragte sie leise. In den Klamotten die Lunar ihr in die Hand gedrückt hatte, fühlte sie sich absolut nicht wohl, aber sie wollte ihn auch nicht alleine losziehen lassen.
“Keine Sorge. Als Vater mich fortgejagt hat war Rimini meine zweite Heimat. Was glaubst du woher ich meine Fingerfertigkeit bekommen habe.” Lunar lachte. Er verschwendete anscheinend absolut keinen Gedanken daran, dass Rimini eine Stadt war die für einen Prinzen nicht weniger geeignet sein könnte. “Ach,” er wandte sich zu Crescent, “du hast nicht vergessen wer ich hier bin?”
“Jared.”
“Genau!” Für einen Moment sprang er rückwärts vor Crescent her, was dazu führte, dass er fast in jemanden krachte. Lunar schaffte es gerade noch den Zusammenstoß mit einer Drehung zu verhindern. Bevor jemand anderes reagieren konnte, verbeugte Lunar sich leicht und sagte: “Tut mir unendlich Leid, mein Fräulein.” Danach drehte er sich um und spazierte die Gasse entlang, diesmal nach vorne schauend.
Crescent folgte dem Prinzen, immer auf der Hut vor potenzieller Gefahr. Die hier überall lauerte und doch nicht erschien. Zumindest nicht bis sie zu ihrem Ziel kamen.
Das Ziel, wie Crescent ein bisschen später herausfand, war ein, zuerst unscheinbar wirkendes, Gebäude das sich als eine Art Spielhalle herausstellte. Lunar schenkte keinem der Tische auch nur ein bisschen Beachtung als er, ohne sich umzusehen, durch den Raum marschierte und schließlich an einer Tür stehen blieb.
Er klopfte kurz bevor er, ohne zu warten, eintrat. Im nächsten Augenblick war Lunar an die Wand gepinnt, von einem Mann, der, wie Crescent sich dachte, vor einigen Minuten aus dem Colosseum entwischt sein könnte. Crescent wiederum hatte einen Dolch gezogen und war bereit den Typ auszuschalten. Dieser ignorierte Crescent allerdings komplett.
“Jared,” sagte er, seine Stimme übertönte die Geräusche der Spielhalle. “Du hast dich ja schon lange nicht mehr blicken lassen!” Mit diesen Worten stellte er Lunar auch wieder auf seine eigenen zwei Beine und klopfte Lunar den Staub vom Rücken.
“Ich bin auch nur hier weil ich meinen Gefallen einlösen will,” antwortete Lunar und man sah wie das Lachen des anderen starb. Doch Lunar wäre nicht Lunar wenn er seinem Gegenüber nicht die Chance gab, auszusteigen. “Keine Sorge, wir können es so machen das ich eine Münze werfe. Wenn du richtig liegst mache ich es alleine. Also, Kopf oder Zahl?”
Für @blitzgeschichten ,(grad noch vor 12... deswegen ist die Qualität auch nicht top)
Crescent suchte ihn schon seit einiger Zeit bevor sie seine Gestalt endlich erspähte. Im Nachhinein wunderte sie sich warum sie nicht gleich an diesen Platz gedacht hat, am Rand einer der Klippen, auf einem Steinbrocken sitzend, waren seine Augen auf den Nachthimmel gerichtet.
"Wir konnten nie so viele Sterne sehen. In der Hauptstadt." Er sprach ohne seinen Blick abzuwenden und er wusste dass Crescent gekommen war um ihn zu nörgeln.
Und sie wusste, dass er es wusste. Genau deswegen seufzte sie nur und verschränkte ihre Hände.
"Mein Prinz, ihr wisst über die Schlacht morgen Bescheid. Ein bisschen Schlaf würde euch auch gut tun." Sie versuchte einen neutralen Tonfall beizubehalten, aber er merkte dass sie angespannt war. Normalerweise sprach sie ihn nie mit seinem Titel an, vor allem weil es nicht sein Titel war. Immerhin war er von seinem Vater verstoßen worden. Dem Vater, dem er eines Tages gegenüberstehen würde.
Hier und jetzt war es allerdings nur einer der Generäle seines Vaters. Zwar immer noch eine Schlacht, unnötiges Blutvergießen, aber er stand jemandem gegenüber den er selten gesehen hat. Und wofür das Ganze? Weil sein Vater ein Tyrann war der nicht das Wohl der Menschen im Sinn hatte. Der Sonnenkönig, so nannten sie ihn. Unbarmherzig wie die Sonne selbst.
Er stand auf und streckte sich bevor er sich endlich zu Crescent drehte. "Also gut. Wir sollten gehen. Bald zeigt sich der neue Morgen, ein blutiger Morgen. Aber wenigstens haben wir den blutroten Drachen an unserer Seite."
Als Crescent ihren, nicht gerade gewollten, Titel hörte, schnaubte sie. "Sicher doch, der blutrote Drache an der Seite eines Mannes der kein Herrscher sein will." Und trotzdem würde sie nicht zulassen, dass der König diese Schlacht gewinnt.
Alright, I’m not good at sitting down lately and write long texts but short ones are alright and I saw the post about OCKissWeek last month and decided to at least try to sit down and get 7 pairs. And since it’s the 3rd for me already: Here is the first one!
He had said that they shouldn’t go into the hideout alone. Of course Ivail hadn’t listen to him and of course the bandits had been waiting for a possible attack. Athras and Ivail had been fighting back to back for some time already, with Ivail not wanting to leave his side more than a few steps. He never did that, during a fight, since he had learned that strength wasn’t Athras… well, strength.
Now it was Ivail who bleed from several wounds, bodies of bandits piled on the floor before him. He had been shielding Athras, taking most of the damage himself while Athras healed him from time to time. Only because of that both of them were still standing.
Athras had blended out every noise but at some point he had started to be overly conscious of Ivails movement, the way his body moved to another enemy to take another strike. That’s why he also felt when Ivail relaxed, turning to the last two bandits who were already retreating.
The shoulders relaxed, the sword tip sinking into the ground. Right after Ivail turned to him, Athras leaped at him and the sword fell on the floor with a cling as he caught the elf who immediately wrapped his arms around Ivails neck.
“That could have gone wrong, do you know that?” Ivail asked, while Athras buried his head in his neck. He knew Athras was even short for an elf but whenever he held him like this he was reminded of his physique once more.
“I was sure you would catch me,” Athras answered, his breath tickling against the neck. For just a short moment Athras wanted to stay like this, at least until he calmed down a bit. It hadn’t looked good for them at first after all, being outnumbered and all but numbers didn’t help if you have no clue about how to fight an experienced fighter. But he hadn’t known that they wouldn’t know how to fight well and for that his heart had been racing since the start of the fight. And Ivail didn’t seem to let him go before he would want to get down either. He was strong enough to carry him for a while, those arms didn’t get their muscles from nowhere.
It didn’t take long until Athras leaned back, grinning at Ivail.
“Do you want me to let you down now? Or do I get my…,” he started but couldn’t finish. Athras had taken his face between his hands and kissed him. As soon as their lips touched Ivail felt energy dripping into him, tickling him a little bit but in no way uncomfortable. He didn’t know what was better, the soft lips, tasting as sweet as ever or this energy, seemingly reviving him. He was surprised and before he could react Athras ended the kiss, resting his forehead against Ivails.
“You’ll get your reward kiss when we are back, for now you have to be satisfied with one that healed some of your wounds.” Athras thumb stroke his cheek, where, until earlier, a bleeding cut had been. One that Ivail apparently didn’t notice.
Atracho was always a bit unreasonable but sometimes his ideas are a bit ridiculous. Not the best candidate to get on the throne of the naga kingdom. (446 words)
Keron had been leaning against a tree for some time now, throwing an apple into the air and catching it again while he was watching the other one splashing around in the water, the red tail appearing and disappearing from the surface repeatedly. There wasn’t much else here beside the lake but somehow he always found his way back here, into the shadows of the trees and somehow he was always there too. Well, almost always. Had he that much free time?
When he was noticed the other one shot him a smile and waved before swimming over to him.
“You are here again!” he was greeted loudly as Atracho was pulling himself out of the water just to fall onto the ground and roll around.
“And you have no sense of danger,” he answered him, knowing quite well that the prince probably didn’t have a single dagger with him. Not that that little thing would help much if he was really attacked.
“But it’s only you who comes here… ever.” Atracho shrugged his shoulders and got a sigh in response.
“I can’t believe the prince is an unreasonable brat,” he mumbled quietly enough for Atracho to not understand him. If he had to be honest he would probably suffocate in that golden cage too, not being able to go where he wanted to go. The others always coming after him, wanting his attention or berating him. Even his sister was like that but he still had the whole city to explore while the prince only had the palace. Only. Keron almost laughed at that thought. The palace was big enough to have some secret corners nobody knew about too. Instead of saying anything else he just bit into his apple. It wasn’t like he had to talk with the prince since he would probably fall asleep soon anyway.
“If you’re so concerned you could be my guard,” Atracho suddenly said causing Keron to choke on the apple he was about to swallow. It took him some time to get himself together while Atracho just stared at him with big eyes.
“I would only guard that gold on your arms,” he stated, still coughing. He didn’t know what the prince was thinking. Being the petty thief he was… guarding someone just didn’t suit him. If it did he probably wouldn’t be here. Before he could sink deeper into depressing thoughts he was distracted by Atrachos laugh.
“That means I just have to wear all that accessory for you to stay by my side,” he stated, turning around to lie on his back and stare at the sky. “It would be nice if it were that easy.”
While Ithi and Mist are travelling around Ithi meets some familiar faces... (1151 words)
They arrived at the town early afternoon and decided to check in at the inn right then. At least they didn’t have to carry their stuff around anymore which already had been a bother thanks to all the snow. Ithelan had glanced at Mist as he looked around, watching all the lights hung up at the houses. He himself didn’t really care about them as long as he got something warm to drink. Damn cold, if he had known he wouldn’t have sold the ring.
They stayed in the warm inn for long, unfortunately, because Mist heard that the townspeople were celebrating a festival called christmas and after the barmaid explained what it was about, something about giving each other presents, he pulled Ithelan to the market. Good, he could use the time to stock up on ingredients he needed for spells but the cold really got to him and after it started to snow again he left Mist on his own to go back.
At the inn there was a surprise waiting. An unpleasant one, at least for him. The barmaid on the other hand enjoyed the full house, shuffling around the tables to get everyone their drinks and food. The common customers were sitting there, travellers with tired faces, happy to finally get a meal. At one table there was a dragonborn sitting over a meal who caught the eye of the others but he didn’t seem to mind the few gazes the people shot him. And the oddest bunch of them all was catching his eye even though they weren’t sitting together at all. It was the chaos group he saw back where that amulet was.
Ithelan walked to the table he and Mist sat at earlier, drinking mulled wine. Some of the people looked at him, but didn’t pay any more attention to him. Wearing a heavy cloak wasn’t uncommon as well as hoods covering the face. At least he wore a different one so they probably shouldn’t remember him anyway. As soon as he sat at a table the barmaid placed a cup in front of him.
“Something to warm you up,” she said before she left again. Oh, she sure was happy to have something to do. Ithelan had overheard her complaining about how she cleaned the place twice in the morning out of boredom when he entered the inn for the first time. He sipped on the drink but stopped, looking at it with surprise. That tasted so much like chocolate. A bit too much for him but having something warm in his hands was a pleasant feeling. Finally he put off the hood and looked around a bit.
There was a big tree in one corner next to a fireplace, decorated with ornaments and stuff that really causes too much work to clean up again. In front of there, on a blanket that was placed on the floor sat the dwarf they saved back then, together with her elven friend. They were holding plates with some cookies, while cups were standing beside them. They were talking and gesticulating with each other while the music was in the background.
And that music came from the half-orc playing a… harp? It was the first time he saw someone with orc blood in them playing an instrument like that. But it was a nice melody, staying in the background while fitting in with the chatter and laughter and was actually nice to listen too. The other time when he heard the lute play it was almost annoyingly loud, back in the dungeon. The people seemed to enjoy it too.
Ithelans gaze wandered again, stopping by the last three of the bunch who were standing at the end of the bar, drinking. The thiefling was also watching the other people in here, looking rather bored. Well, at least there was no screaming today. Ithelan remembered the cause for when he experienced that loud mouth, something about apologizing but he didn’t know why he had to. He had been too angry about being called a youngster to listen to all the shouting.
The other two, the elves, looked more into their mugs than anything. Occasionally exchanging words but not yet holding a conversation. They seemed like they didn’t really care about the festivities going on here, sometimes sighing when the laughter was sounding through the room. At least the drow seemed to enjoy the stay at the inn a bit more than the other one.
Ithelan was interrupted with watching the people when the door opened up, bringing in a stream of cold air. The muffled up person stood in the entrance for a moment before coming up to him. Looks like Mist had enough of the weather outside and he sat down opposite of Ithelan. Humming while he got rid of his cloak he didn’t notice that Ithelan was staring at the sweater he was wearing. The new sweater. With the sentence ‘When I think of you I touch my elf’.
At first Ithelan didn’t say anything, his mind blank until he muttered: “Where did you get that bullshit?” Hearing that Mist put his hand on his chest, breathing in in a dramatic manner.
“I didn’t hear that right now,” he declared, his hand leaving his chest again as he grabbed something from the cloak pile beside him. “More so because I brought you one too,” he said, pulling another sweater up and placing it on the table.
“Oh no, you didn’t!” Ithelan spoke, louder than he had wanted to. It got him a look from the thiefling who stood nearest to them but he didn’t notice that. Instead he looked down at the sweater, looking at the elf face and the letters spelling ‘He’s an angry elf”. He looked back at Mist. “I’m not wearing that.” He wanted to shove it back when a hand reached for it.
“Oh, what is that thing?” Ithelan turned to the voice, while the thiefling looked down at the sweater with a giggle. “It suits you, angry elf. I was thinking I knew the voice. So you’re still running around… all alive.”
Mist looked at the two of them, “Wait, you know each other?”
“No,” they both answered at the same time which caused them to glare at each other before Ithelan spoke up again.
“We met once before…,” he said.
“… but I would have liked it if someone died back then,” he was interrupted. He just shook his head and sighed.
“There are some more people who would also like to see him dead,” Mist mentioned. While Ithelan rolled his eyes the other one began to smile.
“Really? The angry elf has those kind of enemies? I guess I stay here for a little chat then. That christmas stuff going on here makes the people to happy. I grant you the pleasure to entertain me for this evening.”
Some time ago I started some dalish clans - syndicates AU and Athi was a drugdealer (863 words)
The bass was echoing through his body as the DJ turned his music even louder. The club was full tonight and he had made quite some deals. The night couldn’t have gone better apart from the slight headache he always gets when he’s in the clubs.
Just as Athras thought that maybe he could sell the few packages he had left tonight too he saw a tall dude making his way through the crowd. Even if he didn’t stand out that much his alarm went off. The way he came closer was too straightforward and target-oriented. The usual clients who didn’t know him yet were glancing around, sneakily sometimes, trying to find someone who could have some stuff for them. That dude was a cop! But that club was the property of the boss people. Why was one of those asshats here? Fucking shit! And even if he wasn’t one, Athras was better off safe than sorry so he turned around and made his way to the exit. Of course the other one noticed but Athras was shorter and faster, not having that much people in his way so he ducked, hoping that he was even harder to find like that.
As soon as he stepped outside the club the cold night air hit him in the face like a fist. Damn, running for too long was out of question unless he wanted to end up like last time, an almost frozen lung and a coughing fit that lasted an hour. It was nasty having to run in the cold so he ducked into the next side street when he heard someone coming out. He knew the streets around here so he should be able to lose anyone here. Thank god there were not a lot of people in those dirty, small gangways and he could walk faster than he could have with beggars sitting around here. The darkness made it easier too, the humans sure struggled to keep up with him then.
When he was sure he hadn’t heard anything for minutes he stopped to look around. He had to get out onto a wider street again and get home. Get rid of the rest of the stuff, store the money in a safe place. And then he heard a shot echoing through the night and a shadow came from another gangway to stop a few metres away from him. A bull of a person, it surprised him that he didn’t get stuck since sometimes it gets horribly narrow. And of course he had been noticed when that bull turned around.
“I suppose you’re not with the cops,” he said, his tone more questioning than stating the fact that he thought that. The only answer he got was a grunt. Damn, that could mean anything. Not knowing what to do Athras raised his arms, slowly, as he got down to the ground. He had a knife in his boots, not that it would help him in a situation like this but it was nice to have it in reach if anything should happen.
“Don’t move!” the loud voice echoed from the walls as Athras saw something flash in the hands of the man. Had he deal with a pistol now too? At least he stopped moving. He was down enough to catch the knife but he wouldn’t be able to stop a bullet with it. He looked at his rings… magic. He didn’t want to use it, not after all that happened in the last year in the community but… would that human notice the slight change if he cast stone armor? He knew that it wouldn’t help him for a long time but he had to try. And he concentrated on the flow of magic around and in him. Just something. There had to be something he should be able to do after that. He won’t be able to get away only with that spell.
Thankfully the man didn’t notice but the gun was pointed at him. If he was right than three metres behind him was another backstreet to the left. But three metres was a long way if you were held at gunpoint.
“Look, there’s nothing to worry about. Whatever you did, I didn’t see it,” he tried, but he could guess what had happened. And the man didn’t move an inch as he knew that too. And with that he knew that Plan A, talking himself out of this shit wouldn’t work, or have such a high failing rate that it wasn’t worth trying.
“Okay, you know what? Fuck it,” Athras declared but stayed where he were. His hands were up, so it should work even though he didn’t want to use more magic. The only thing he could hope was that the arcane lance flashed the other man since it was dark and narrow. And then he would run. Thankfully that was one thing he was good at. He closed his eyes, tried to feel the weight of his rings.
Now! He sprang to his feet as soon as he heard the surprised shout and bolted for that backstreet. If he reached it he could get away.
Describe the same character twice. Once to fall in love with them, then again to be repulsed by them.
Athras
He doesn’t try to stand out much and support his friends from the back. He manages to do this in a subtle way sometimes, they don’t even recognize that they leaned on him in the slightest. Or they notice later. He never would want something back, just a thank you and treating him like everyone else is enough for him.
He’s always looking for new ways to treat wounds, for new information in general. Being able to travel around fills him with joy and nervousness. New places and new people. Adventures that may lead to new knowledge are the ones he would really love to experience. As long as he doesn’t get in trouble. If he would cause trouble he would rather back of than go further.
Which doesn’t mean that he’s running. He is rather confident in his skills, happy to talk about what he knows with others. Confidence in his skills are a must, he was told. Seeking to get better was something he naturally did.
He’s an airhead too. You can find him daydreaming a lot, especially if something happy happened recently. His first action would be reacting according to his feelings which he suppresses most of the time, knowing it isn’t a good thing to do when people have prejudices against elves already.
He’s one of the people who you can trust in regardless what happens when he count’s you to his friends.
He’s trying to read people who are in his company. Especially taverns and other places with a lot of people, most likely to be drunk, are his favorites. Drunk ones are even easier to manipulate than sober people. Doesn’t matter if it’s a card game where he plays the dumb one or a conversation he leads in a direction he wants it to go. That doesn’t mean it’s always successful but if there’s no other way, manipulating people is easier than anything else he could try to think of.
He also doesn’t do anything wrong. He studied hard, asked about things that interest him, some that weren’t interesting. For the sole purpose of being whom he is today. He wouldn’t let others tell him what he does do wrong when they don’t know anything about the topic. The only time he would listen is when they have solid proof of him being wrong. Which they mostly don’t have.
And not to forget the fact that he can be really annoyed by people being assholes. Not that he would show it but if there’s an opportunity to get back on them he gladly takes it. It’s usually something little but it wouldn’t be the first time he left someone in need of help behind just because they didn’t proof worthy of his care. And is he responsible for their possible death if they didn’t want to take his help in the first place? No. He had been called ruthless, left people who needed help on their own but that’s all. The people are to hold themselves at fault for showing their negative feelings towards him.
He’s one who tries to predict others moves and uses his knowledge to his advantage.
