Traveling Outside of Lithmore
[Chilly]
(This is the dark underbelly of a merchant ship, loaded with a variety of
boxes, kegs and chests. Rats chitter in some of the corners, and there's
no light, really, but from the opening to the deck up above. )
[ Exits: west ]
Bryne Porter is here. [App: 2]
look bryne
Before you is a Lithmorran male, likely somewhere in his early twenties.
Comparatively tall, he's just under six feet in height. He has a thin
face, a bit hawkish and predatory. He has a slightly larger than average
nose, that curves downward slightly. He has pale, smooth skin, perhaps a
sign that he doesn't spend quite as much time in the sun as he should. His
eyes are a dark blue colour, and beneath them are a set of dark, purple
bags. His hair is thick, black and is prone to curling in humid weather,
and has been grown in a shaggy mop. Along his jawline is a thin beard, and
it's the same inky black colour as the hair on his head. He has the
tendency to keep a crooked smile, that makes him appear just a little bit
roguish. He has a thin frame over all, but closer inspection reveals this
lad is much stronger than he appears, tight knots of compact muscle are
formed all along his body.
His equipment is hidden under a blue cotton cloak bearing the Crossed Swords on a Chalice.
He is taller than you by a hand and a half.
The cargo hold is dark and silent but for the scuffling of what -sounds- like little rodent bodies at one side. [Player]
Bryne Porter looks just a bit tired, and up to his elbows are caked in brown, flaking blood. As he wanders down the steps below deck, he plucks a lantern off of the wall and shines it around. As he gets to the last step, his boot happens to fall on a rat, sending the poor vermin's entrails squirting from either end of it. He looks at the mess and sort of snorts, before looking around the hold.
[Action: Bryne Porter is searching the hold while caked in blood.]
Dead silence now; as Bryne Porter's lamp moves down the inner hull of the ship shadows dance along the musty curved walls. [Player]
Bryne Porter scans the area, examining the ground.
Bryne Porter takes a closer look at the ground.
Bryne Porter gives the area a final look-over.
A shadow sneaks its way behind one stack of crates, headed for another. [Player]
Bryne Porter spies motion in the corner of his eye, and turns around a moment too late. His hand drifts down to the hilt of a steel longsword with a leather handle, but he doesn't draw it just yet, "I'm a merc too... " He announces loudly, and without certainty of just who he's talking to, "The Morning Birds, out o' the Vavardi Colonial lands." He looks behind a crate, and manages to find nothing, "It's a matter o' professional courtesy that I'm goin' t' let you decide how this plays out, General. I'd prefer the option where I keep my ghoulies."
A glint of red steel catches a ray of light streaming from above, but it's a subtle gleam -- if Bryne Porter isn't looking, he'd easily miss it. Beyond that, silence reigns, and somewhere in the darkness a concealed body may or may not lie in wait for its chance to throw a blade at the man's approach. [Player]
You sneeze loudly.
You flip your cloak back over your shoulder.
You pull out your dagger.
You say OOCly, "OH SHIT. ROFL."
Bryne Porter keeps his hand firmly around the hilt of a steel longsword with a leather handle, "Ben survived, we got to him in time. Gavin an' I had poked around the guild house before back when the two o' us were huntin' down Sanguine." He hears Sigrid sneeze and immediately draws steel.
Bryne Porter says OOCly, "Well timed XD"
Bryne Porter flips a blue cotton cloak bearing the Crossed Swords on a Chalice back over his shoulder.
Bryne Porter bares his sword.
Sigrid charges a blade out of the darkness, throwing a coiled arm and dagger at Bryne Porter's shoulder. A hissed noise accompanies the attempted blow. "You'll never take me, you snide little scrap of gutter trash!"
Sigrid tries to land the hit, grunting a dim noise. [Attack]
You miss Bryne Porter!
Bryne Porter holds his shield hand up, "WAIT!" He roars in the direction of the sneeze. As Sigrid charges towards him, he immediately backpedals, nearly tripping over a barrel of salted cod. He raises a pinewood kite shield reinforced with iron struts up, Sigrid's dagger scraping against the wood, "Listen to me, damn it! I don'nae want t' have t' kill you." [Defense]
Sigrid reels back after her strike glances off Bryne Porter's shield, throwing her unsteady stance off balance for a brief second until she finds her feet and throws another strike. This one is more definitively aimed to avoid the shield in his hands. "Arien. Bloody Arien hell-- you never should have stepped foot on this ship, you measled brute!" [Attack]
Your hit glances off Bryne Porter's body!
Bryne Porter grunts as Sigrid's knife grazes against his chest, "I came here t' talk to you. You can keep Ben's grapes for all the bloggin' fucks I give." He spits, putting some distance between him and Sigrid, "Why would you do that?"
Sigrid circles a quick dance of feet, her red-bladed dagger held at a ready defense. "Eh? Ehh? Talk to me kid; I've got a chest full of Daravi sovereigns just ready for spending in Tubor, and I ain't much opposed to sharing the bounty if you're willing-- just lower that sword, and that shield, and I reckon we can exchange a few civilized words." [Defense]
Sigrid has a sharp blood-stained dagger drawn and at the ready, slitted eyes fast upon Bryne there in the semi-darkness.
Bryne Porter keeps his shield raised, "You know, Orban actually approached me with your idea o' that sham marriage. I may o' taken him up on the offer if I knew it had been you, the two o' us could o' been enjoyin' a loveless marriage right now." He chuckles faintly, kicking a small crate out of the way, "You nicked a guy's testicals - that tickles me pink - but why?" [Defense]
Sigrid spits on the floor, both dark eyes glinting in the half-light. "Porter," she mutters, "You're a good kid, but I ain't got no call to trust you after what I've done. Not with that blade of reckoning held high in your hand." [Defense]
Bryne Porter grins a bit, "I was thinkin' o' callin' it Flea Bite, blade o' Reckonin' works too, I suppose." He notes, swinging a steel longsword with a leather handle around a bit. He keeps his shield raised, and circles around Sigrid slowly, "Like I said, I was born an' raised a merc, for that I'm goin' t' let you decide how ends - you in manacles, or on the floor in bits. I have mandrake, I can make it less painful than gettin' burned alive or quartered." [Defense]
Sigrid's dagger keeps sharp and strong where she holds it, a harsh stare glaring Bryne Porter down from behind. "You fucker," mutters low. "If I thought I had half a chance of sweeping you off to Fonty's Belly with me, I'd take it in a heartbeat. But you ain't that kind, are you, for all your bright-eyed spunk." She grunts, throwing herself into a stab at Bryne Porter's gut. [Attack]
Your hit glances off Bryne Porter's body!
Bryne Porter steps backwards at Sigrid's sudden attack and winces as the blade cuts into a navy cuirass bearing the Crossed Swords on a Chalice, "I was. An' trust me, a year ago I would o' had you bent over a railin' all the way t' Tubor." He lunges towards Sigrid suddenly, driving his sword towards her stomach, "But unfortunately, I don'nae think I'm your type now." [Attack]
Bryne Porter hits your body! You have been wounded.
Sigrid 's red-steel dagger is no match for that weighty blow launched from Bryne Porter's quarter. It gives way, and the sword slashes against her stomach, glancing a heavy enough hit that she's now spilling blood. She lets loose a snarled noise, but there's not a lot of force made to back it up until she steadies herself and jabs her short-blade again. "I REFUSE to die here!" she bellows, hurling herself at the man. [Attack]
Your hit glances off Bryne Porter's body!
Bryne Porter groans in pain as Sigrid's blade sinks into his cuirass again, blood dribbling out from a small wound. His hand goes to the cut, his finger tips brushing against it, "Why did you do it? Was it because he had been fuckin' Sanguine?" He roars, swiping his sword low at her thigh with the tip of his sword, "Was she really that worth it? She was fuckin' everyone from Bene to Remi!" [Attack]
Bryne Porter hits your legs! You look pretty mangled.
Sigrid GROANS as the sharp side of Bryne Porter's sword meets its mark, nipping her hose and hitting sharper against her hip than even he may have intended. She falls back against a stack of crates, one arm keeping balance while the other maintains a mildly-defensive wave against further offense. "frak. Arien frak," mutters low. "Don't you FUCKING talk to me about Jules." [Defense]
Bryne Porter marches towards Sigrid, glaring straight at her, "Julea was fuckin' Bene because she loved him, Remi for gold, she tried t' frak both me an' Gavin for protection. You think you were special?" He kicks another barrel out of the way, sending its contents scattering across the deck, "She was manipulatin' everyone in the city. An' I marched down t' Southside an' dragged her by the nose hairs to get drawn an' quartered." He spits, "Was she worth it?" [Defense]
Sigrid crumples against a wooden crate, letting her dagger fall. "Don't," she begs, head hanging as a desperately haggard breath of air attempts to fill her lungs. "Don't. I don't want to hear it." [Disengage]
Bryne Porter lowers his sword, but keeps a safe distance, "It's the truth, General. I'm sorry." He takes a step back, reaching into his satchel for a moment. [Disengage]
Sigrid's dagger is still available, gripped in her hand, but a dull set of eyes stares Bryne Porter down as she settles a lean against the stack of cargo crates. "I'm dead if I don't kill you," admits in sharp set of words. "But I ain't got the gumption." [Disengage]
Bryne Porter flips a leather-bound book with dog-eared pages, marked with a J towards you.
Flipping end over end, a leather-bound book with dog-eared pages, marked with a J sails towards you.
You catch a leather-bound book with dog-eared pages, marked with a J, snatching it from the air.
Sigrid leans against a stack of crates, dagger in hand.
"You're dead regardless. In the end we all are." Bryne Porter notes as he tosses a book of poetry towards Sigrid. He slides his sword into his sheath, but keeps a hand rested on the hilt, "I can make it painless." He assures with a faint smile, "There was a time when I felt strongly for Sanguine too, bringing her to get executed was the hardest thing I've had to do." [Bryne Porter]
Sigrid hangs onto the stack of wooden boxes a minute before falling a controlled descent to her knees. "Painless, eh?" toys with the idea. "Right straight through this whore-loving heart, Porter?" She wipes her brow, nearly dropping her knife. "That might put a dent in my pain, I reckon."
Bryne Porter gets a mandrake root from a navy satchel adorned with Crossed Swords on a Chalice.
"Give you some mandrake too." Bryne Porter offers, producing a sprig of the aftermentioned herb, "Is'nae nothin' wrong with lovin' a whore. A whore brought me into manhood." He shakes his head slightly and looks at his boots, "I... For all her faults, she was a good woman, or tryin' t' be." He frowns and looks to Sigrid, "I'm sorry for all the pain she's caused t' everyone." [Bryne Porter]
Bryne Porter gives you a mandrake root.
Sigrid takes the herb in hand, then chews at it, turning her head away. "Do your worst, Porter," gives up, and the dagger falls out of her hand to hit the floor, face hidden against a wooden box.
You drop a red steel dagger, with curved blade and raven-engraved hilt.
You ingest the herb.
A flash of light seems to fill your vision for an instant.
Bryne Porter offers Sigrid a salute, "General." He draws a steel longsword with a leather handle out of his sheath and approaches Sigrid, "I'm sorry." He repeats as he places the tip of his sword over her breast, just over her heart. He looks to her, as if for confirmation, a solemn look on his face.
Sigrid rolls a dull set of eyes upward, then smirks at Bryne Porter.
You think to yourself, "Duty. Always fuckin' duty."
Bryne Porter smirks back and wraps an arm around the small of Sigrid's back. He opens his mouth to say something, but shuts it immediately. Without breaking eye contact, he pulls her toward him, while pushing a steel longsword with a leather handle into her chest.
A loose hand pats at Bryne Porter's arm before a bubble of blood shows between her lips and Sigrid slumps forward, chin bowing to her chest. [Player]
Rats in the Cargo Hold
Old As Dirt
-
- Information
-
Who is online
Users browsing this forum: No registered users and 1 guest