Just a drink

[darkflameangel]

Camriska smiled a fanged smile and chuckled to herself, "The Order of the Breaking Dawn would probubly kill me on sight. the reward is not much, but I havn't had a good hunt in a while, may I think on it for a little bit, an hour at the most, i promise that if I accept I'll be a formitable Ally." she thought to herself, me, working for the Breaking Dawn? Ha! I mihgt as well be commiting Treason to my own people. I'll help distract this man long enough for Gwydion to get away. "Would you mind working with an Undead?" she was slowly wraping her power around this man, to either find him later or bend hi, to her will. she hadn't decided yet on which one, though she felt sorry for him, he was just following orders... maybe she'll make his death nice, and quick... nah...

[thisone]

The great warrior at the bar leaned back a bit, the idea of having to bring in a prey alive quelching the thirst for the hunt, and the idea of sharing it with this fool killed the impulse all together. "So, allow me to understand this." he said, leaning forward and placing his bow back on his shoulder, "You are searching for this man simply because the bounty is high? This I can respect. But to do so for only 5,000 crowns? To be delivered to you and to expect your good graces to give us our cut? Not exactly something people would happily except." He then looked back to the waitress. "Miss, may I please have some more water?"

[Arianwen Chandell]

*Arianwen nodded and moved to get the soldier his requested drink, her emerald orbs daring to peer out at the hallway as she wondered if the man was with her brethren. The darkened hall gave her no answer and there was no sign of the pack, only the sound of the falling rain as it drifted in through the open back door. Despite their lack of visibility, Arianwen knew that they were there. They may have retreated into the surrounding woods, but she knew that the door to the tavern would be in sight from wherever they were. She worried about the man as she filled the soldiers’ pint to the top and carried it back to him. The fact that her brother had literally come to get the man known as Gwydion gave her faith that he would not be harmed, and in turn be welcomed as a friend. Though she had nothing on which she could base her assumption that this man was a good one, Arianwen sensed in her heart that she was meant to help him. Sighing silently as she forced a content smile to her lips, she accepted the soldiers payment, only paying brief attention to the conversation taking place between himself, the vampiress and the large warrior.

Dropping the coins into the box beneath the bar, Arianwen found her gaze drifting back to the large
old clock that stood against the far wall of the bar. Her shift ended in minutes, and while she nodded to the large warrior and moved to get his water, she looked around for her replacement staff member. Seeing no one, Arianwen rolled her eyes and glanced back out at the dark hall. Still, there was no sign of her brethren or the man that the soldiers seemed so intent on finding.


{The pack stood as one, though scattered in various positions around the back yard of the tavern. The trees that stood on the edge of the nearby forest provided enough coverage for more than five of them, while a few sought shelter in the shadows provided by the Inns rambling turrets and awnings. Rain fell steadily, silver glints in the soft golden light of the outside lantern, that seemed to roll off the thick oily fur of the wolf that had caused the havoc earlier in the tavern. He stared up at Gwydion with solemn pale eyes, his orbs eerily seeming to glow in his otherwise dark face. Though the black wolf was the owner of the only pair of eyes that he would be able to see, the eyes of all the pack were firmly locked on this strange man who had been allowed access into their domain. None of them stepped forward however, they seemed content to watch from the shadows and to trust their dark brother to the task at hand. He stood in front of Gwydion, his gaze never wavering, the gauntlet now becoming quite moist in his mouth. The wolf would stand like that until either the man tried to move or Arianwen came to tell him he could stand down.}


Finally Arianwen was relieved to see Meistrel waltz into the tavern, ten minutes late as usual. After signing herself out and handing the reigns over to Meistrel, Arianwen retrieved the food bags from the back kitchen and called out goodnight to the rest of the staff before retrieving her hooded cloak from its hook. Draping the dark green cape around her shoulders, she dropped the bags of food on the floor long enough to twist her long blonde hair into a loose bun and tuck it down into her cape before she pulled the hood up over her golden head. Picking up the bags once more, she walked out the back door of the kitchen and made her way quickly down the darkened hallway. Finally she slipped through the open doorway and out into the backyard, squinting into the rain. Her brother stood guard over Gwydion, and Arianwen rushed over to them, her soft leather sandals almost slipping in the mud.

As her brother would not understand her words, Arianwen approached the man and touched his arm, smiling at her brother with relaxed posture. This told him that Arianwen felt no threat from the man and that he was safe for her to be with. Her brother shifted his weight and snuffled, dropping the gauntlet on the muddy earth and licking his lips several times as if to get the taste out of his mouth. He stared up at Gwydion before looking back to Arianwen, his brow creased slightly before he barked softly to her and nudged her hand that held the bags. Arianwen loosened her grip, allowing him to pull at the bags with his teeth. They had done this many times, and he was now gentle enough so as not to rip the bags. He would carry them back in their entirety to their younger sisters den. She had just had cubs and was dependant on the pack for her babies to survive. Arianwen watched as her brother carefully arranged his mouth around the handles of the bags before he disappeared into the forest. A few minutes later she heard the familiar howl of her other brother and watched as a few of her sisters came out of their hiding places to run to be with their pack. Her heart longed to join them, if only out of habit, but the man still stood before her and she could not just abandon him. The soldiers could be still waiting out the front, and he clearly wished to avoid a confrontation. A blush of a deep pink rose to her cheeks as she realised she was still touching his arm. Snatching her hand away quickly, she wondered what she should do with him.

~Soldier… still.. er.. in.. ~ she pointed towards the tavern as she didn’t know the word for “inside” yet. ~And.. out.. front..~

She peered up into those green eyes that looked so much like her own.

~We… go.. forest.. then.. town?~ She pointed towards the trees where there was a pathway that would lead him out onto the main street of Bendelsain. ~Or .. ~ she smiled as a thought occurred to her. There was a small hunters shack less than a few minutes from the back of the tavern They could seek shelter there from the rain until the storm passed, when Arianwen could then return to the tavern to see if the soldiers had moved on or not. Pleased with her plan but unable to communicate any of it, she smiled shyly at the man and tugged on his hand.

~ Arianwen.. know.. ~ She began to walk towards the forest, near the spot where her brother had just disappeared. ~Come..~ *

[Blood and Roses]

The Hunter captain took a long pull from his tankard, then dropped it loudly upon the bar. Foaming ale sloshed over the side, splashing onto the bartop. He paid it no heed as he wiped one hand across his mouth. "Aye, none of us were happy to take this bounty. Hunting rogue paladins is a surefire method of ending up on the business end of a long, sharp blade. But my men aren't professional soldiers. They're husbands, and fathers, and 5000 crowns will feed and clothe all of our families until this time next year." His hard face softend, as did his voice. "Larn can get his boy that apprenticeship. Wendil will probably quit Hunting altogether, and retire for good. And Gerd... well, it'll be a chore keepin' 'im outta the brothel, but he's a good lad."

The Hunter's face twisted into an angry sneer as he looked over the warrior at the bar. "But if your lordship has bigger game to hunt, then by all means leave me and my men to our bounty. There'll be more for us." He stood abruptly, his stool scraping the floor. He turned on his heel and started for the door, but stopped and glanced over his shoulder. "Though from the looks of yer gear, you could use the money too." A gold coin spun end over end, over the Hunter's shoulder, to land with a small splish! in the puddle of spilled ale, "And a proper bath. M'lord."

The Hunter Captain stopped briefly as he passed Camriska. "Your offer is well recieved. Hunt him if you like, but you're on your own. I've no problem with the... er... biologically compromised. But the Breaking Dawn would surely withold the bounty if they knew I was in league with one like yourself. No offense, ma'am. If you should apprehend this criminal, I will see to it that you recieve your due."

As he banged open the door, the Hunter captain called out, "Alright, lads, off your arses! We got a bounty to catch!"


Gwydion chased after the wolf, through the kitchen, down the hall and out into the rain-drenched night. He was running hard, both to escape the Hunters and to keep pace with the dark beast ahead of him. The difused light of the lantern made faint traces of the trees at the edge of the yard, and the wolf was headed for them. Gwydion raced afterwards, barely keeping his footing as the clinging mud made footing pricarious.

The dark wolf reached the treeline and stopped, circling round to face Gwydion. Suprised, Gwydion attempted to a quick stop, but lost his footing and slid to a stop on one knee. The great wolf made no move to attack, nor dropped the gauntlet it still carried in its mouth. "Careful, friend," Gwydion murmured to the wolf, "that's mithril. It'll chip your teeth." The wolf flicked one triangular ear at his words, but made no other move.

A faint sound within the woods brought another flick of the wolf's dark ear, but a quick scan of the woods revealed nothing more than trees and darkness. "Of course you didn't come alone," he said to the beast, his tone almost conversational. "Wolves never do." The wolf's pack would be near, likely watching for a sign from their alpha, whom Gwydion assumed he was facing. If the black wolf took an aggressive stance, he would quickly find himself surrounded by a crowd of furry killers.

Cautiously, Gwydion stood, moving carefully so as not to startle the predatory creature that watched him so intently. As he straightened, he nearly cried out as knives of pain lanced outward from the wound in his chest, sending him back to his knees. He scrabbled ineffectually at the mithril straps that banded his torso, as if he could contain the agony with his hands. Insensed, he grabbed the collar of his armor and jerked at it as though trying to tear it free with hands. After a few futile moments, he simply clutched the collar until the spasm passed.

Gwydion rose slowly to his feet, and felt warm fluid roll down his stomache as he did. He gritted his teeth; he had meant to dress it before his pursuers had arrived, but couldn't get out of his blasted armor. The untreated leather straps would not loosen until they dried, which could take days. He would have no choice but to cut himself out of his armor. If he could only find shelter long enough to do so.

Noise from the Inn brought Gwydion to the alert, and his hand crept towards his sword when he felt a light touch upon his arm. It was the barmaid who had saved him and summoned the wolf to lead him away. Her eyes sparkled in the darkness as the same black wolf now dropped his gauntlet into the mud with a wet plop.

The wolf licked its chops, then nuzzled the maid's hand and yipped in a most unpredatory manner. Gwydion saw she carried large bags in her hand, which the wolf gently took from her and dragged into the woods. He watched the entire exchange, fascinated. The sound of padded feet vanishing into the woods faded into silence, and he realized that he and the maid were, for the most part, alone in the back yard.

Perhaps it was blood loss, but Gwydion was sure he could feel the heat of the girl's hand upon his arm. He knew this was impossible, with his armor still in place, but still he felt her touch. He turned to face her, his savior, and opened his mouth to utter words of thanks, but when his eyes met hers, those eyes that burned emerald green in the lantern light, the words were swept away.

She snatched her hand from his arm, as though she found herself holding a snake, and Gwydion grimaced in the darkness beneath his hood. Did she believe that he was the murderer the Hunters proclaimed him to be? Perhaps. She didn't know him at all. But if that were true, why did she aid him? And what was she going to do now?

"Soldier… still.. er.. in." She pointed towards the tavern. "And.. out.. front." She seemed to struggle with the words, as though learning a new language. Gwydion wondered breifly where she had come from, that she didn't speak the Common tongue.

He brushed the thought aside as she said, "We… go.. forest.. then.. town? Or..." Gwydion's brow furrowed as he tried to process her words. Did this girl know a path through the forest? His hopes soared. Maybe she planned to help him escape the Hunters? A small smile touched his lips. Such a sweet maid, to help a complete stranger, knowing only that he is a fugitive. Just who is this woman? Gwydion wondered to himself.

The girl took his hand and pulled him towards the dark forest. "Arianwen.. know.. Come." He knew that he should be on gaurd, as this woman was as unfamiliar to him as he to her. But he did not feel guarded. Somehow, he sensed she meant him no harm.

His head swam, and he knew that he would have to find shelter soon. Weak, too tired to protest, he allowed the girl to lead him into the wood. Gwydion tried the name on his tongue. "Arianwen?" He smiled again. "Arianwen. I am Gwydion." He pondered to himself as he followed her into the night-dark forest.


((Hoy! Am I getting long-winded or what?!))

[Arianwen Chandell]

*The forest watched and listened as Arianwen led Gwydion through its dark and leafy underbelly, while she guided him expertly to what was locally known as “the hunters hut”. The hut was in fact a ramshackle cabin that appeared out of nowhere, hidden in the dense undergrowth of the forest. Arianwen glanced back through the falling rain to make sure that Gwydion was in fact following her, before she found the handle for the door and pulled it open, revealing a large dark whole in the otherwise green exterior.

Stepping inside, she shook herself quickly, trying to dispel the persistent rain drops that clung to her cloak before she took it off and hung it on a hook near the door. Running her fingers through her long blonde hair before she tossed it over her shouler without another thought before she gestured for Gwydion to follow her inside, Arianwen then began to look for a lantern.

Finding one within minutes, she lit it quickly and smiled approvingly at the small golden flame she had made. Turning the flame up before she gently closed the lantern door, Arianwen then walked toward the centre of the shack and hung it from a hook that hung from the ceiling. The soft golden light reached most of the room, only leaving a few shadows that clung to the walls of the shack with an eerie darkness. Arianwen peered around the room, her eyes growing quickly accustomed to the changing light as they focused on a sight that made the blood chill in her veins. Disbelieving what she saw, she stepped forward cautiously for a better look. Mounted on the far wall of the shack was the fur backed skin of a large silver wolf.

Arianwen froze, her gaze locked on the fur that hung so crudely on the wall. As a sick realisation occurred to her, she could not stop her gaze from trailing downwards before she cried out loud as she saw the wolf’s head was still attached to the fur. His once brilliant dark eyes were now devoid of life and her eyes brimmed with tears of sorrow as she gazed upon him. He could have been one of her own pack, and this knowledge saddened her in a way she had never hoped to imagine. She had only recently begun her journey into learning what it was to be a “human”, but it was sights like this that made her wonder why she had started in the first place. Her brethren never hunted a human and hung his skin on the walls of their lair. It wasn’t needed for survival. It wasn’t natural. Arianwen’s hand fluttered to her mouth as she felt her gorge rising, forcing herself to look away from the fur. Her anguished emerald orbs locked on Gywdions, her disgust and horror clearly evident in her features if he chose to look upon her.

Thunder boomed overhead while the shack door banged violently in the sudden surge of the Northern wind that now blew throughout the shack. Arianwen shivered as she looked around for a source of warmth. Spotting a makeshift fireplace in one corner of the shack, Arianwen pointed to it as she glanced back to Gwydion.

~Fire? ~ *

[darkflameangel]

Camriska blew a strand of hair from her eyes and sighed, "Oh well, i hopw all fares well." she looked around the tavern, sipped the last little bit of her wine and stood ever so gracefully.she smiled at the warrior, then dug in her pocket and placed eight gold peices on the counter as a tip, and walked silently out the door.

[Blood and Roses]

Despite the pouring rain, many souls braved the elements on the streets of Bendelsain, hurrying along on business, slinking down darkened allys, or simply wandering about enjoying the wet. The Hunters, however, had no problem making their way down the street, a troop of armored men marching in a wedge formation with their Captain at point. Each of them carried themselves like veteran fighters, and were unmolested as they proceeded to a promenade just outside the Market Square. They made their way to an abandoned merchant's stall and took shelter under the tattered tarp that served as an porch overhang, where the Captain called for a halt.

"What is it, Captain?" asked one man, the youngest of the Hunters." His soft eyes flicked across the promenade. "Have you found him?"

"No, Gerd, or we'd be giving chase now." This from another Hunter, an older man with a salt-and-pepper beard. "It's something else, isn't it, Rugan? That woman at the bar?"

"Aye, the bloodsucker." The young Captain Rugan nodded, his voice shakey. "At first I was sure the barmaid was hiding something, but then..." he shook his head, as if trying to clear it. "Something got inside." He touched an armored finger to his temple. "Here. That's why I cleared you men out, before it could touch you, too. I think she's hexed me."

The other Hunters looked gravely at their Captain, and at each other. This was not the first time they'd encountered Vampires, but each knew they were not prepared to deal with such powerful creatures. They'd learned that lesson the hard way, and one of their former comrades still stalks the night, inflicted with the terrible thirst for lifeblood. None of them wanted another encounter with such a foe.

Captain Rugan pulled the sunburst amulet from his belt and peered into its surface, then closed his eyes. The other Hunters stood by, knowing their leader was in silent communion with a high priest of the Breaking Dawn. The Order had issued the holy item to their Captain when they had taken their first commission, and it allowed them to stay in contact with their patron when it was required.

Shortly, Rugan opened his eyes and turned to his Hunters. "Wendil." His voice held the familiar tone of command.

"Sir!" The greying veteran snapped to attention.

"Take the men back to the compound, and turn in for the night. Larn, " he turned to another Hunter, "You're with me. We're going back to the Inn. We've been tasked with tracking the Vampiress until Karos finds us."

The Hunters swore as one, and spat upon the ground. Father Karos was vain, arrogant, and cruel, hardly the picture of piety one would expect from a priest. He was also one of the brightest young Undead slayers on this continent. They had worked with him before, and knew Karos would resort to blackmail, torture, and burning the city if it meant achieving his goals. None of them liked him, but as a representative of the Breaking Dawn, he held the purse strings.

The Hunters parted ways, each with a feeling of dread settling like lead weights in their stomaches.



Gwydion struggled through the Dark Forest, gritting his teeth against the pain in his chest. With every step, he felt another trickle of hot blood. He wondered breifly that the smell had not yet attracted the notice of the nightborn predators that stalk the forest. He stumbled, blind but for the faint traces of moonlight that outlined the girl leading him through the woods.

Gwydion was unaware that they had reached their destination until Arianwen threw open the door. He gave the outside a quick glance, noticing how its overgrown exterior camoflaged it perfectly in the darkened wood. He followed Arianwen into the hut and closed the door behind him. He leaned back against the door, his head resting against the rough wood with eyes closed. The sound of the falling rain was soothing, a counterpoint to the throbbing in his breast. He felt the darkness closing in around him, seeking to squeeze his awareness into merciful, painless sleep...

A shocked cry brought Gwydion back from the edge of unconciousness. His eyes snapped open, quickly searching the room. Arianwen had found a lantern, and its flame bathed the room in subdued, golden light. She stood before the back wall, frozen in place, staring at something there. Gwydion blinked, trying to see what had so suprised her.

There on the wall hung a wolf pelt, a fine silver wolf pelt that would likely fetch a good sum at the market. Its head still adorned the skin, nose pointed at the floor. Odd, he thought to himself, but not so terrible... Arianwen turned, her large jade eyes filled with horror, fixed on his own. He was held by that gaze for what felt like minutes, though only seconds passed before realization dawned on him. The wolf! This woman had some primal connection to wolves, and he had seen it first-hand. Now, she stood facing what she would undoubtedly consider an act of barbaric cruelty, the skin of a soul companion cut from the flesh and hung as decoration by some savage human. Gwydion could feel her outrage, the sickness welling within her, and he lurched off the door towards the far wall.

Gwydion placed himself bodily between the maid and the pelt, using his body to block her view. "No, look away now," he said, placing gentle hands upon her shoulders. He wanted to comfort her, his rescuer, but could think of no way to ease her suffering. His only idea was to remove the silver wolf hide, and so he gently guided Arianwen away from it.

Gwydion turned and carefully removed the pelt from the wall, his face solomn and grave. He delicately folded the wolfskin, showing all the reverance with which he would handle the sacred vestmants and banners of his Church. Then he nodded to himself, and undid the clasp on his cloak. With one hand Gwydion wound it around the folded animal pelt, and then touched the clasp to activate its enchantment. With a shimmer, the bundle became transparent.

He stood a moment, unsure what to do with the invisible bundle. Thunder crashed outside, and the wind blew the door open with a bang. Gwydion quickly moved to the door, preparing to close it, then paused. He stepped back out into the rain-drenched night and found a large rock near the shack. He placed the cloak-wrapped wolf pelt beneath it, and quickly headed back inside.

Arianwen had started a fire as he worked, and Gwydion sighed in relief. The heat felt good on his chilled skin, and he sank down before the makeshift fireplace. He smiled his thanks to the girl who had saved his life. Pushing wet strands of his sable hair out of his face, he said, "I am truly in your debt, miss. Were it not for you, I may have been forced to fight those men in the Inn. They are good men, and do not merit harm from me. If ever I can repay you, I am at your service."

Gwydion leaned against the wall, greatful to finally rest, and drew his knife from within his boot. He carefully worked the blade beneath the left side torso strap of his armor, and began sawing at the wet leather strap. As he worked at cutting himself free of the armor, he studied his companion. Arianwen was beautiful, really, with an inner wildness that shone through her tame exterior. She intrigued Gwydion.

Her face turned towards him, and Gwydion quickly turned his gaze back to his work, accutely aware that he had been staring. He hoped she had not noticed, and with a sharp gasp between clenched teeth he sawed through the last of the leather strap. The armor seperated on his left side, and Gwydion let out a sigh of relief as he felt the pressure on his wound ease. He panted, eyes closed, and allowed himself a moment to rest before turning to the strap on his right. He knew that if he didn't get his wound bandaged soon, Arianwen's might be the last face he saw in this life. He allowed himself a small smile. That wouldn't be so bad.

[Arianwen Chandell]

Arianwen watched silently as the man that called himself Gwydion moved closer to the monstrosity on the wall. As if he realised how much the sight offended her, he placed his body between the wolf and Arianwen, momentarily blocking her view but failing to quell her sadness that was quickly consuming her. Seeming to sense this, Gwydion stepped forward, placing his hands on her shoulder, telling her to look away. Arianwen could do nothing but stare at him, her lower lip trembling. Possibly sensing that this was only a temporary solution, one that had failed before it had begun, Gwydion turned around to face the wall. Chewing on her bottom lip nervously, she watched as the man removed the pelt from the wall, her heart aching at the thought of what her poor brother or sister had thought of in their final moments before meeting their demise. As Gwydion wrapped the pelt in his strange cloak, Arianwen turned away and walked over to the fireplace. She heard the door blow open, and in moments, close again but her attention never wavered from the fireplace.

She needed something to focus her attention on, something to distract her from the all consuming sadness as she thought of that poor wolf who had previously adorned the far wall until a few minutes ago. Glancing up at the wall once more as she stoked the fire she had just made, she smiled slightly as she saw the wall was now empty, and her gaze turned to Gwydion who was now walking away from the closed door with the pelt and the cloak, nowhere in sight. Although she still struggled with her speech, she knew the one word that would convey how grateful she was.

~Thankyou..~ she murmered huskily as he sat down beside the fireplace. Arianwnen continued to feed the small raging fire with the few twigs and sticks that were at the bottom of an ancient woodpile tin basket. As the fire roared into life, she placed the last two medium sized logs on the pile of burning wood, before she leant back and sat beside Gwydion. She glanced at him shyly as he pushed his dark wet hair from his eyes and spoke to her.

"I am truly in your debt, miss. Were it not for you, I may have been forced to fight those men in the Inn. They are good men, and do not merit harm from me. If ever I can repay you, I am at your service."

Arianwen blushed, though she only understood a few of the mans words. The message was clear, he thought that he was in her debt. Arianwen shook her head gently, the rain drops that had managed to sneak inside her cloak to cling to her long pale blonde locks now falling loose around her.

~Sir…~ she whispered. ~ Arianwen ….happy to help..~ *

Lowering her lashes, Arianwen blushed again as she realised how close she now sat to this man who had been a stranger to her only hours before. She watched silently as he retrieved a blade from his boot and began to cut at the straps of leather which bound him to his armour. Catching him as he turned to study her, Arianwen offered a shy smile and blushed again as she looked away to study the floor more intently. When she looked at him again, he was struggling to cut the strap on his right side. Reaching forward to try to get the blade out of his hand, Arianwen urged

~Arianwen.. help..~

Taking the blade from him gently, Arianwen began to cut at the strap as she had seen him do with the one on his left side. Soon the blade sliced through the strap, releasing its binding hold on Gwydions chest. Again, she was surprised by her closeness to this man, and shuffled backwards slightly, handing him back the blade. Blushing furiously, she stared down at the floor as the flames leapt at her back. Her stomach grumbled, reminding her that she had not eaten for hours and she wondered if this man shared her hunger. Placing her hand on her rumbling stomach, Arianwen blushed again, fearful that this man had heard her rumbling stomach. Glancing up at him nervously, she asked ~Hungry?~ *

[Arianwen Chandell]

(( RPing Session between Gwydion and Arianwen))

Gwydion: Gwydion started to protest as Arianwen took the blade from his hand, but stopped himself. He felt weak, dizzy, and was grateful for the help she offered. She drew near, knife in hand, and again he felt as though he could feel the heat of Arianwen's body through his armour. Gwydion knew he must be growing delirious, but could not deny the strange sensation, or the way her scent increased it. He watched her work at the leather binding, confounded by his own senses, until the strap gave way. The throbbing in his breast returned instantly, flushing away all other thoughts in its insistent beat. Gwydion hardly had the sense to accept the knife from her, and return it to its sheath. Faintly, he heard the girl ask if he would eat. Gwydion was ravenous, but gently shook his head. "No, but go ahead. Eat. I must... " he let his words fade, conserving his strength. He struggled to pull the armored leather shirt over his head, and with a relieved sigh cast it aside. The smell of his own blood quickly filled the room, and Gwydion saw that the entire front of his shirt was soaked in dark fluid. He immediately tried to stand, to move away from Arianwen, appalled that she might have to witness such gore. The quick effort made his head spin, and he collapsed to one knee. Ashamed of his ebbing lifeblood, and the wound that he knew gaped beneath his ruined atire, he cast a glance over his shoulder. "Forgive me, miss. I had hoped to take care of this at the Inn. I will go outside, that you might eat in peace." He tried once more to stand.


Arianwen: *Arianwen lowered her lashes as her fingers brushed his while he took the blade back from her. Where their skin had touched, her flesh now tingled and throbbed and she began to rub at her hand absently as she watched Gwydion remove his armour through her thick lashes. As he revealed his shirt beneath the armour, she was shocked to see the amount of blood that stained the front of the material. This man was clearly in need of medical attention and Arianwen automatically went into survival mode. She saw no need for words. The man clearly disagreed with her as he mentioned something about her eating and then he offered to go outside, though his staggering fall to one knee would suggest that this offer was in vain. Glaring at the man for being so foolish as to try to walk before she could tend to him, she rose from where she sat and stood in front of the man. Offering him her hand, she tried to help to his feet. Once standing she looked into his eyes, the colour so much like her own that it scared her.

~Arianwen help you… here..~ she moved away and grabbed her cloak off the hook where she had hung it earlier. Spreading it on the floor beside the fire, she gestured for Gwydion to lie down. Tugging at his shirt, she tried to make him take it off so that she could see the wound that had provided so much blood*


Gwydion: Their eyes met again, and once more Gwydion found himself captured by the gaze of a girl he had only just met. It was a strange sensation, for a career soldier that was not unfamiliar with company of the fairer sex. But she was different, this Arianwen, and he could not bring himself to resist her aid. He looked away from her as he gingerly removed his shirt. The body beneath was hard, forged in the fires of warfare, and the dense muscles were covered in his blood; some small portion was dry, cracking, but most was fresh, pumping in trickles from the great rent in his chest. A horizontal gash, the length of his fingers and thick as his thumb, ran just above his heart. The wound was deep, piercing through bronzed outer flesh, through pink inner flesh, past red muscle, to a weeping core. The ribs beneath were clearly visible at the edges of the wound. Gwydion looked at the floor as he spoke, "It is terrible to behold. Not for eyes of one such as you, my lady." He cast about for something to bind the wound, but in the dim light, his vision fading, he came up empty. His eyes returned to Arianwen, and his focus vanished. It occurred to him how near she stood, and again he caught her scent. The throb in his chest settled into a dull ache. "Miss," he said, "I should care for this myself. Do not be concerned."

Morridanu: *The rain fell in a steady downpour outside the shack, but for now at least, inside the shack was dry and warm. The soft golden light of the overhanging lantern, combined with the warm orange glow from the fireplace, provided more than enough light for Arianwen to see Gwydions wound in all its gory detail. Arianwen could not help but gasp out loud as the true nature of the wound became clear. It was not some sort of scratch, cut or tear like she had sewn up on many occasions for her brethren. No, this was a deep wound that would need to be cleaned and perhaps packed before it was dressed. And then of course, there was always the chance of infection. Arianwen practically pushed the man down onto the makeshift bed before she looked sadly down at the mans face. The memory of how her den mother had died of a similar looking wound surfaced and Arianwen swallowed it angrily. She had not been able to help her then, as she might have done now, but working as a barmaid at the Dancing Devil Inn had taught her how to attend to various wounds caused by the odd bar room brawl. It was this knowledge that Arianwen now called on. Softening her smile as she gazed down at Gwydion, Arianwen placed one hand upon his bare shoulder, her whole hand quickly beginning to throb as she touched him. ~Arianwen help..~ she repeated before she gestured for him to wait. Stepping quickly to the other side of the room, Arianwen picked up a discarded jug and moved quickly towards the door. The wind wrestled for possession but Arianwen pulled harder and managed to open it. Squinting against the pouring storm, she held the jug up high above her head and listened to the pings as the rain began to fall into the jug. Soon the pings became splashes and when she was sure that she had enough water, she ran quickly inside, pulling the door shut behind her. When she returned to Gwydions side, she was soaking wet as she knelt before him. Reaching down to the bottom of her full skirt, she tore at the hem, tearing the material into long shreds, while her hair fell around her in wet golden strands. Using these shreds of material, she dipped them in the jug of water before she began to clean the area around the wound. Her eyes finally found his again and she smiled shyly in the flickering glow of the fire. *

[Blood and Roses]

((okay, let's see if there's any life left in this one, eh?))

Laying before the fire, Gwydion's wounds and fatigue crashed upon him like a tidal wave. He faded in and out of lucidity as the strange girl from the inn cleaned his wounds with rain water and strips of cloth torn from her skirt. In moments of clarity, he watched the maid work, marveling at her courage in facing the Hunters, let alone the compassion displayed towards a complete stranger. Few would shelter a man such as he, being accused of such heinous crimes as he was. And her eyes... was this woman perhaps a vision of divinity, a blessing of the Goddess sent to shelter her errant servant? Such flights of fancy would normally make him grin at his own presumption, and though he had not the strength, his conviction swelled. The Goddess would surely know his innocence. Her attention was not commanded by the Archbishop, and She could not be lied to as the poor fools of the Order could.

Strangely, the pain of his wound had crept away, unnoticed by the half-concious Gwydion, leaving him keenly aware of Arianwen's ministrations: the chill of the rain water within the hole in his torso; the rough cloth gently scrubbing away the ichor that had dried upon his skin and wiping away the fresh blood that trickled anew; the strange sensation of her fingers on his flesh, cold from wind and rain, and yet burning hot upon him.

The paradoxical touch of the maid brought his mind fully to the surface, and with a small start he seized her hand, grasping it, fully absorbing the sensation as he stared into her flashing emerald eyes. Once more her gaze threatend to overwhelm him, and he gasped through gritted teeth, "My lady... I wish to... " Darkness swam at the edges of his vision, swirling inward like a vortex, threatening to drag him under. "To tell you... I--" Gwydion's eyes rolled up into his skull, and oblivion finally claimed him.



The two Hunters, Rugan and Larn, approached the Dancing Devil Inn once more, hoods over their faces, doing their best to blend into the perpetual crowd of armored soldiers, guards, and sell-swords that crowded the streets of Bendelsain. They walked slowly, but with purpose, each man keeping quitely to his own thoughts. Both mercenaries were pondering the days to come, now that the Order had decided to become involved in their hunt. They could not refuse, as the Order of the Breaking Dawn held the purse that funded this operation, and would be paying them upon completion of the job.

Rugan had relayed to Larn the gist of what his communion with the Archbishop had yielded: Gwydion Shadowbane was obviously in colusion with this vampire woman from the Dancing Devil, and the warrior from the bar was obviously her pawn, the sword-arm of her insideous evil. The only way to flush the rogue paladin from hiding was to capture or kill his dark allies.

Larn swallowed hard at this; he had seen many battles in his time with the Hunters, and born witness to carnage. He attributed his survival to his latent mental abilities, a prerequisite talent to joining the Hunters League. Though not especially gifted with the Sight, Larn knew a true killer when he saw one. Somehow, though, that warrior was different. A pall of death hung over the giant man, giving Larn the feeling of being a hare in the shadow of a hawk. The very idea of challenging him, fair or foul, made his innards clench like a fist.

Captain Rugan's thoughts were on the impending arrival of Father Karos, one of the Archbishop's favorite pious murderers. Karos was a talented fighter, a brilliant speaker, and utterly devoute in his faith, the same faith that fueled his divine magics, and gave him the cold detachement that would allow him to slaughter or torture men, women, and children in his zealous pursuit of "Goodness". Karos makes no pretense as to who and what he is, thought Rugan. The bastard knows he's a monster. But he believes that what he does today will make a better tomorrow, and so he takes sick pleasure in his work.

Rugan would happily run a blade between Karos's ribs, if he believed he would survive such an encounter with the righteous assassin.

Rugan and Larn both swallowed the ill taste that filled their mouths and glanced at one another. The men had Hunted together dozens of times. This should be the easy part, a simple tracking expidition, with no orders to engage. Should they be faced with the vampiress herself, they would not show hostility, for their intent was not to catch or kill her. Rugan's scarred jaw clenched. Karos can do his own wetwork.

Nodding to one another, making a sign of luck with their fingers, the Hunters pushed open the door to the Dancing Devil Inn, and hurried in out of the rain.

[Arianwen Chandell]

(( This storyline will be played out in a different time frame than Arianwen currently is, where she is involved in the battle. This is all happening before the war breaks out. I had Arianwen leave Gwydion to return to the DDI for supplies as said in this thread:

morthika.proboards34.com/index.cgi?board=seedy&action=display&thread=706

And now I will continue from there. ))



*Thunder rumbled ominously overhead and Arianwen shivered despite the warmth that her roaring fire had created. The two large pots she had managed to carry back in her sack, were now bubbling away atop the fire and the smell made Arianwens’ mouth water. She set out two bowls and two spoons on the small makeshift table she had constructed from an almost empty crate before she carried the bottle of whiskey over towards the bed where Gwydion was resting.

Careful not to wake him, she pulled back the blanket she had covered him with only moments before and studied his sleeping form for a few moments. The soft golden light created by the fire and the lantern danced across his skin, and Arianwen felt her previously watering mouth suddenly grow dry as her eyes trailed over his muscular form. Swallowing a few times, she took a deep breath to steady her hand before she carefully unwrapped the dressing she had applied an hour ago. Blood had already begun to seep into the torn rag from her skirt, and she sighed deeply as she saw the first signs of infection in the wound. Ripping some more strips from her skirt, causing the flesh of her legs beneath her knees to become more visible, she began to clean the wound more thoroughly with her collected rain water. Once clean, she unscrewed the whiskey bottles lid, took a swig, grimaced, and then began to clean the wound with the alcohol. She knew that this would sting, but hoped that Gwydion would be too deeply unconscious to feel any pain. Regardless, she had to sterilise the wound and subsequent dressing if she had any hope of keeping the infection at bay.

Packing the wound with another torn rag soaked in whiskey, Arianwen then began to dress the wound. With Gwydion lying down however, it proved too difficult to bind him fully and she tried to slip her hands underneath his strong back in an effort to lift him enough for her to wrap the makeshift bandage around him. The sleeping soldier proved too heavy for her however, and she fell forward, landing on the man she had been so careful not to awaken. *

[Blood and Roses]

The sudden jostling of the maid Arianwen landing upon him startled Gwydion from his slumber. Long years spent campaigning in hostile terrirtories had ground into him an instinct for defending himself without thought, without conciousness, and these instincts took hold of Gwydion before his eyes ever opened. His left arm flashed out and around, quickly encircling Arianwen's chest and dragging her down atop him, pinning her against his broad chest. His right arm snaked downward, scrabbling along his waist where his dagger usually hung from his belt. He had removed it, however, before falling asleep, and the searching hand found nothing, but the bared leg of Arianwen, exposed in her tumble. Gwydion's eyes snapped open, green eyes flashing, face twisted into a snarl of fury, and he attempted to surge forth from beneath the pinned Arianwen.

As quickly as his assault began, Gwydion froze, and the battle fury drained away just as suddenly. The delicate weight of his "assailant", the feminine softness of her frame, and the now-familiar heat of her body... Realization penetrated his fatigue-riddled brain, and his mind rose into sudden conciousness. A new tension gripped him, and his throat tightened. There eyes locked, emerald mirrors reflecting souls laid bare. Gwydion retained his grip upon her a moment longer, his voice was a harsh whisper, "My lady..."

((Hunters on hold))

[Arianwen Chandell]

*Arianwen let out a loud gasp and instinctively began to struggle against her sudden captivity within the strong arms of the wounded soldier. Temporarily forgetting the wound she had only just been so meticulous in dressing, she began to beat at his broad chest with small clenched fists though his hold on her failed to provide her much room to launch a worthy defence.

Her thigh burnt at his touch and a fierce blush rose to her cheeks as her emerald orbs locked with his when they finally opened to fall upon her. Immediately confusion, regret and embarrassment registered in his eyes so like her own as the fight seemed to go out of him. He stopped struggling against her, though she noticed that he still kept his hold upon her. Their chests were touching and she could feel his heart beating in perfect time with her own.

As he spoke, she realised she had been holding her breath and she released it now in a long low exhalation. Given as to how harsh his whisper sounded, Arianwen feared that she had crushed the air out of his lungs with her weight and she struggled again to free herself of his hold. Trying to explain, she fumbled with her words as she wriggled against his body.

~Sir… Gwydion..~ his name feeling strange upon her lips despite her pride at managing to say it upon her first attempt. ~Arianwen.. I..~ she tried to point to his wound. ~Try.. to.. clean.. and .. wrap .. you.. ~she sighed in frustration, feeling stupid for not being able to construct a simple sentence. ~ You.. down.. I.. try.. lift.. you.. Arianwen.. I.. fall..~ she looked at him helplessly, hoping he would understand that she had not intended to fall upon him and put herself in such a predicament.

The silence within the shack after her short speech was interrupted by the sizzling of the stew as it bubbled over out of its pot and began to drip down onto the crackling fire beneath it. Despite this sudden sound, she failed to notice anything apart from his clear green eyes that still stared up at her and the strong embrace by which he still held her close to him. *.

[Blood and Roses]

Gwydion listened intently to the maiden's speach, analyzing her words and the obvious frustration she was experiencing in speaking a language not her own. It was obvious she hadn't meant to startle him, and it seems she had taken a tumble while dressing his wounds, landing most inintentionally upon his sleeping form. The poor girl must be mortified, Gwydion thought to himself. Here she was, caring for a complete stranger, only to fall upon him and be attacked for her trouble.

Gwydion quickly became aware of his arm around Arianwen's body pressing her against his chest, her soft form moving against him as she struggled to free herself from his impromptu embrace. He quickly released her and struggled to help her away from him, imagining the rage and humiliation she must feel. He thought to explain, to try to make her understand, but held his tongue, unwilling to dig himself a deeper hole. She would leave, and he could not blame her. A sick misery began to settle into his gut...

[Arianwen Chandell]

*When he finally released her, she scrambled back away from him. Worried that she had hurt him further, she pointed to the wound, which was again beginning to seep. Sighing deeply, she moved closer and without words began to unwrap her hastily applied dressing. Despite the pressure she had unwittingly applied, the whiskey soaked padding was still in place and appeared to have stemmed the flow of blood. Using the same strip of material she had just unwrapped, she now attempted to bind the dressing in place and motioned for him to move forward as she moved to help him sit up.

~Lean.. on.. Arianwen.. ~ she murmured softly in case he felt too weak to raise his head. Hoping to help him, Arianwen shifted her weight slightly so that she was sitting beside him on the makeshift bed, one hand under his head and the other under his torso as she pulled him towards her. If he was not able to support his own weight, he would need to lean on her as she needed both hands to bind him.

The stew bubbled on the pot, and she glanced at it distractedly as though she had only just remembered its existence. Smiling down at Gwydion, she asked ~Hungry?~ as she tried to help him sit up. *