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Post by anthony on Jan 18, 2010 20:07:12 GMT -5
Facing The Music Prologue Anthony had never been a big fan of Abarack. It was, as the name implied, largely a barracks, a mountain fortress laid out along straight lines and clean angles, dedicated to the militaristic Order of the Temple of Sikkar. Far too orderly for his tastes, and too pious. No fun to be found anywhere, at least not anymore. But it was also home to Melkor, Nakor and General, the reason for his visit today. Business, not pleasure, as the Sentinels would say. He had recently finished some traveling with an adventuring party and, in the absence of a Guild-trained merchant, been selected to take care of the loot they had amassed on account of his knack for reading people and telling them what they wanted to hear. An indispensable skill for a performer, really, both for business *and* for pleasure. And for whatever reason, the best business was to be found here. It was kind of ironic, when you looked at all the harsh and completely unequivocal things Lord Sikkar and the rest of those people in the Levetikon had said about filthy lucre and those who traffic therein, the way the Templars tended to be such strong proponents of the free market system, but that's hypocricy for you. He couldn't get such good deals selling the stuff in his disc anywhere, not even in the marketplace at Sauronan, adjacent to the Merchant Guildhall itself! And so he came here. He made his way through the various stores to dispose of his party's goods, managing to avoid getting slapped in the knee by an overly-enthusiastic Melkor, who was always glad to see a regular customer, then stopped by the bank to process the transactions that would distribute the money he'd received among those who had helped earn it. And then... Should I? It's so close...Of course he shouldn't. He knew that. She was gone, and had been for a good long time now, and the Temple was no place for a guy like him to be hanging around. But what if she's there? She might come back...His head knew that was silly. Sometimes Gifted Ones just disappeared, and were never heard from again, and that was that. But his heart still wanted to hope, and in the end, well... bards have never really been known for listening to their heads over their hearts anyway, and so he made his way to the Temple. The guards gave him some odd looks, but at least had the decency to hold their tongues, this time. Anthony made his way to the chapel, looking around as he wandered the aisles, searching between each pew just in case the sweet, lovely daughter of the angels who had once captured his heart so thoroughly might be kneeling in prayer between them somewhere. But of course she was not. No one here but a bunch of boring templars. He sighed and slowly made his way back toward the foyer, and out again. He was a bit surprised to see, as he stepped out of the church, a pretty girl about half a block off, coming in his direction. Not an angel, and she had none of the exotic features that Anthony tended to prefer. She was, in fact, just as human as he was, and a fairly ordinary human at that. But she had a sweet, innocent, girl-next-door look about her that made her intriguing, at least a little, and there were very few things he cared about more than pretty girls, so he turned towards her and slowly began to walk in her direction. She saw him, and gave him an intent, curious look, her eyes focused on his face for a moment, then she broke into a broad grin and started walking directly towards him. The bard smiled inwardly. This was going to be easier than he thought! Even given her friendly manner, though, he wasn't prepared for what she did next. As he got close enough to her, he stopped walking. She didn't. Instead of standing a few feet away, she closed the distance and threw her arms around him in an enthusiastic embrace. "Anthony! It's so good to see you again! We were all so worried about you when you disappeared!" Aww crap!He hugged her back for a few moments, then stepped back, his eyes finally confirming what his ears had already told him. This was the other reason he didn't like coming to Abarack: The risk of running into someone who knew him. She'd grown quite a bit over the five years since he left home, and filled out nicely, enough so he hadn't recognized her at first, but the pretty young lady with the girl-next-door charm about her... *was* the girl next door. Well, not literally. She'd lived about a quaerter-mile away, in fact. But she was a close friend of his little sister's and they'd always been hanging out together. "Merry? I thought that was you!" he lied. "Wow, you look great! How have you been? What brings you to the big city?" She giggled at the nickname. She hated being called 'Meredith', and it seemed he was the only one back home who really got that. "I came looking for you! I knew I'd find you here. We've heard some horrible, hateful rumors about you, but I knew you're a good, honorable person who would follow in Alan's path! And here you are, leaving the Temple just as I came near!" Sikkar's wings! She thinks I'm a templar!He gave her a strange look. She had always been a pretty smart girl. Surely the conspicuous absence of anything resembling clerical robes, holy symbols, or chainmail on his person should have informed her that he'd had the good sense to avoid the vocation that had gotten his brother killed. Granted, he was carrying something vaguely mace-shaped strapped to his back, but it had strings and a hollow body! He opened his mouth to set her straight, but she kept going. "I just had to find you. I knew you'd want to know!" "...know what?" Anthony asked, as a feeling of foreboding settled over him. He'd read enough sagas to know that a line like that, coming in a situation like this, rarely meant anything good. "It's your mother, Anthony. She's dying. I thought you'd want to see her one last time."
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Post by anthony on Jan 18, 2010 20:08:46 GMT -5
Facing the Music, Chapter 1 Mama, I'm Coming Home "It's your mother, Anthony. She's dying. I thought you'd want to see her one last time." The words hit Anthony with almost physical force, and he staggered back a step, leaning against the wall of the Temple. "What? But she was strong and healthy. What happened?" Meredith shook her head slightly. "She's getting older, mostly. And when cold season came through last winter, it hit the older people harder than usual. She recovered, but it left her a bit frail. And now this winter, she got sick again, and this time Father Grayson says that there's nothing he can do except ease her pain, and the healers agree. She's being called home." The usually-glib bard just nodded silently, words failing him completely for the first time in many years. As much as he may claim to hate his parents, as much as it may even be true, in the abstract, when it comes down to it he still loved them anyway, especially his mother. If there was anything good in him, it was because of her, and he knew it. After several moments of silence, he said the only thing he could think of. "Thank you, Merry. You were right." She blinked at him. "Right? ...oh, that you'd want to see her, you mean?" He nodded. "Yeah. I'll head home right away." She gave him a strange look. "It's a week's trip, even with a horse. You'll need some supplies. Come with me, I've got my horse at the stables. We can ride together to the docks. There's a ship leaving in a couple days." Anthony shook his head. That's what always happened in the stories. The protagonist let something distract him, or slow him down in some way, and then ended up just barely arriving too late. And with his luck, the ship would end up delayed, or blown off course in a storm once they got aboard. He couldn't rely on someone else for transportation, not now. "I can't travel with you, Merry. There are faster ways to get around." She gave him an odd look. "What do you mean?" He reached around his back. "I'm not sure what rumors you've heard, but I'm not actually a templar." He pulled out his lute and began to play a focusing melody as he reached for the magic within. He called upon the memories of his hometown, concentrating intently on the mental images and willing them to become real. The last thing he saw was his friend's shocked face, before the city of Abarack faded out, and the town hall of his home appeared in its stead. He looked around, grateful to see that there was no one around to be surprised at his entrance. He was now a few hours to the east of Abarack, and night had fallen here, which would explain the lack of people. He made his way to the door and found it locked, but that was really no deterrent to a trained bard, and he let himself out, making sure to lock the door again behind him. Ordinary people didn't tend to take much note of Gifted Ones, as a general rule, especially townsfolk, but these townsfolk weren't the usual anonymous people. They were his old friends and acquaintances, and for the moment he'd rather not be noticed and drawn into a conversation. Nighttime was a boon here. His Minstrel Sight meant he could keep to the shadows without blundering around in the dark as he made his way down the streets towards his family's home. When he arrived, he was surprised to find the door locked. He briefly considered picking it as well, but decided against it. No point in antagonizing his folks if he had to be around them for the next few days. Instead he rapped hard at the door, knocking several times then taking a step back, waiting. After several moments of waiting fruitlessly, he knocked again, with his fist instead of his knuckles, but nobody responded and there was no sound from within. "Hey! Is anyone home?" he called out. After a moment he heard the neighbor's door opening. "Hey! Who's making all that racket?" a man's voice called into the darkness. Anthony hurried over, vaulting the fence between his yard and the neighbors'. "Mr. Williams? It's me, Anthony! I came home as soon as I heard. Where's my family? Where's my mother?" Ronnie Willams was about ten years older than Anthony, and had always been a friend ever since he moved in. His eyes got wide as he recognized the young man before him. "Anthony? Where have you been? Nobody's heard or seen from you in... what's it been now, four years? Five? What's this you heard that brought you back to us so suddenly?" "What, you didn't know?" Anthony gave Mr. Williams an odd look. "Mom's dying." "Dying!? Where'd you get an idea like that, Tony? She's as healthy as she ever was. She's off with your dad and your sister right now, at the church. They should be getting back real soon, in fact." The bard leaed on the railing, feeling a bit dizzy. "But I just ran into Merry, from down the street, and she said that--" Mr. Williams held up a hand. "No she didn't, son. You mean Meredith Walker?" "Yeah. What's going on?" "I don't know what you thought you saw, but you've got it backwards. Your mom's just fine, but Meredith's been dead about four months now. She was riding her horse and it spooked and threw her, and she landed on her head, just right..." He trailed off, shaking his head. "A damn shame. She was growing into such a lovely young lady." He looked up as he heard something. "Oh, there they are now. They must have let out early. Hey Les! Come over here!" he called out. Anthony looked over and saw his father, his sister and--standing tall and straight and looking completely healthy--his mother, slowly approaching. "What is it, Ron?" his father asked. Aww crap!
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Post by anthony on Jan 24, 2010 22:39:15 GMT -5
Facing the Music, Chapter 2 That's My Story "So let me see if I understand correctly." Anthony suppressed a wince. His father understood just fine. He'd explained it quite clearly, afterall. That phrase, especially when spoken in that sarcastic tone, invariably meant that someone was about to be raked over the coals, and he had been that someone more than enough times. "You stole the money I had set aside for your sponsorship and training in the Order of the Temple, snuck out in the middle of the night and absconded to another world with it, ran off to Nineveh, the city of hedonists and spent it all carousing with itinerant minstrels until you managed to convince one of them to sponsor you in their lawless fellowship. Then you spent the next five years doing heaven only knows what with yourself, wasting your time and money with riotous living, never once stopping by or even sending a letter. And then one day, after you've doubtless had a little too much wine, you think you see a dead girl telling you that your mother is on her deathbed, and that finally brought you to your senses and you came home. Am I right?" Anthony clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth and gave his dad a sarcastic smile. "Yep! Exactly right about everything, as usual. Except for one minor detail. It wasn't seeing Merry that brought me to my senses. It was talking with you. Thank you so much for reminding me of exactly why I absconded to another world in the first place." He stood up, pushing his chair back from the family's dinner table, and took his lute off his back and into his hands in a gesture oddly reminiscent of a knight drawing his sword. "I'm quite glad to see everyone alive and well. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a ghost to track down." He began to dance his fingertips across the strings in the well-known pattern of the World Transport spell. A sharp slap on the cheek jolted his concentration enough to disrupt the spell. He put a finger wrong and the melody came apart with a dissonant twang. His mother next gave her husband an equally hard slap. "What is wrong with you? Both of you! You're grown men, both of you, and sitting here bickering like schoolchildren. Sit down!" she ordered her son, and Anthony complied, looking a little bit sheepish. She could always do that to me, he seethed inwardly. "Lesley," she pleaded with his father, "this should be a happy occasion. 'For this thy son was dead, and is alive again; and was lost, and is found,'" she quoted. "We should be rejoicing that he's returned, alive and well, not fighting." Was dead, and now alive again. If only they knew!He almost said it out loud, but he caught his tongue in time. That would be a very bad idea! Instead he sat back for a moment, closing his eyes and idly moving his fingers along the strings of his lute, in patterns that resembled the simple, soothing practice melodies he used to relax and focus between fights. That wsn't good. He shouldn't be this stressed, this much on edge. "Excuse me?" he ventured. His mother looked over at him. "Yes, Anthony? What is it?" "I'm sorry, but, I've had a really long and stressful day. I... umm... don't suppose my room's still got a bed in it?" She nodded understanding. "Oh, of course! You must be exhausted, dear! No, it doesn't anymore, but you can use Dylan's room. He's off at the farmhouse this week." He nodded. His little brother must not be so little anymore, if they were letting him take Overseer shifts at their farm outside of town. "Yeah, that would be nice," he nodded. He excused himself and made his way to his brother's room and lay down on the mattress. There was no blanket, so he covered himself with his traveling cloak and was asleep in minutes.
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Post by anthony on Feb 11, 2010 21:51:45 GMT -5
Facing the Music, Chapter 3 Love At Home Anthony awoke the next morning with a mild headache, the kind that just sort of hovers there around the edges of your head, just above the threshold of consciousness and makes an annoyance of itself. He groaned softly as he sat up, which only made things worse as the blood in his head drained downwards, leaving him dizzy as well as headachey. He reached for his lute, which he'd laid on the nightstand, and began to strum slow, soft chords, nothing in particular, just some way to focus. It usually helped him feel better, and this morning was no exception. It took about five minutes, but his head slowly cleared and the nagging pain gradually went away. There was a gentle knock at the door, which brought him out of his focus on the music and made him realize that he smelled something, a familiar scent that he'd never quite found the equal to since leaving home. Frying bacon and frying potatoes: his mother was cooking breakfast. There were some excellent innkeepers throughout the Six Worlds, but he'd never quite found the equal of "mama's home cooking". He quickly pulled some clothes on. "Come in!" As the door opened, the scent grew stronger, and his stomach decided to make sure he knew it approved. It was his sister. "Anthony?" She looked... uncertain. As well she should, after sitting through the argument last night. He smiled. "Come on in, Hannah." He scooted over a little so she could sit down next to him on the edge of the mattress. She did, but only after giving him a big, warm hug. "I've missed you!" she sighed. "Everyone seems to think you're a bad person now, but I know you. You were never really happy here since Alan died, were you?" He sighed softly. "It's not quite that simple. I mean, yeah, it's kinda hard to be happy when your big bro's dead, but there was more to it than that. You were kinda young when it happened, but I bet you remember him pretty well. Remember how big and strong he was?" Hannah nodded. "And... remember how big and strong I wasn't? And still ain't? Alan was made to be a warrior, a knight in Sikkar's service. And he got sent back to us in a box. And then Dad wanted me to go out and take his place. If he couldn't make it, what chance would I have, y'know? Dylan might be able to cut it, but it wasn't the right life for me and Dad just couldn't see that. So I decided to do some good in my own way instead of doing it *his* way." His sister squeezed his hand gently. "OK, I guess that makes sense. But what sort of good have you been doing? Dad seems to think you've turned into a hedonist. 'Wine, women and song,' isn't that what they say the life of a Bard is?" He shook his head. "I've never touched wine. I'm *not* going to end up like Uncle Jeffrey!" The vehemence of his denial surprised both of them a little. "But... yeah. Not everything I've done is something mom and dad would be proud of. But then again, not everything was something they'd be ashamed of either. Here, listen to this." He began to play a slow, simple chord progression on the strings. It didn't quite follow the melody, but it was a close enough accompaniment that he hoped she'd recognize it, and after a few lines he saw comprehension dawn on her face. He grinned. "Yeah, thought you'd recognize it. How's your singing voice? Still as beautiful as I remember it?" She grinned back at him as she realized what he was proposing. "Well, I'm in the choir now at church..." He nodded. "And I bet you all sound like angels up there," he teased. "Now, it smells like breakfast's ready. How about we get this morning started off on a better note than last night ended on? You take the melody line, and I'll harmonize." She agreed. "Yeah, last night ended on a really harsh note. I've never quite heard anyone make a lute do *that* before!" He groaned at the pun. "Well, hopefully you won't have to hear it ever again." He got to his feet. "Come on..." She stood up and walked to the door with him just behind her, and as they emerged and began to walk towards the dining room, Anthony began to strum the strings, and after a couple bars of introduction, Hannah started to sing the first verse. He found himself surprised at just how lovely her voice was. She could be a bard herself...He cut that thought off before it had finished forming. The Guild was no place for a sweet, innocent girl like his sister. He concentrated on the song, an old favorite hymn from the church and one he had selected very carefully for its beauty and its words. Come, thou Fount of every blessing, tune my heart to sing thy grace! Streams of mercy, never ceasing, call for songs of loudest praise! Teach me some melodious sonnet sung by flaming tongues above! Praise his name, I'm fixed upon it, Mount of thy redeeming love! By the end of the final verse, they had their mother in tears. The emotions on their father's face, though, were more complex. He looked uncertain, and vaguely annoyed. Was this a sincere conciliatory gesture, or a subtle challenge to his authority and his judgment by a skilled performer and manipulator of audiences? Or perhaps a little of both? After a few moments of silence, he gave a mumbled "thank you" and squeezed his wife's hand gently, reaching up with the other hand to tenderly brush the tears from her face. Anthony and Hannah hurried to set plates, forks and knives around the old wooden table, and once their mother had regained her composure, she brought the steaming skillets of eggs, hashed potatoes and bacon from the stove and they sat down together. They held hands around the table and bowed their heads as Lesley said grace. "Lord Sikkar, we thank thee that Anthony has returned to us alive and whole. Lord, we thank thee for this food and for the chance to partake of it together, and we ask thee to bless and watch over this house, and over Dylan Samuel, over the farmhands and the farm, and keep us from harm and from evil, and to send the rain and the clear sun in their due times that our crops may grow, amen." There was a general chorus of amens, then everyone got down to the business of dishing up food and eating it. "Mmm..." Anthony sighed after he'd finished off two plates full, "I've missed your home cooking. Never found anyone else who can make a breakfast quite like yours, mom." She tried to laugh it off. "You shameless flatterer!" But he could see in her warm smile and the little crinkles of happiness around her eyes that she recognized it as a sincere compliment and was touched by it. "So what else have I missed? What's been going on the last few years?" "Nothing much, son," his father replied. "A few births, a few marriages. A few deaths too, most of them people whose time was up. Only real surprise was Meredith. The farm's doing well, and overall things are nice and stable around here." "What about Rachael?" Hannah asked. Lesley nodded. "Yeah. A couple months ago, this young lady wanders into town. Poor thing, looked half-starved and her memory's gone. Doesn't know who she is or how she got here. But Sister Martha took her in, called her Rachael until she can remember who she is." Hannah's eyes suddenly widened with excitement. "Hey! Anthony, you've spent a lot of time traveling. Maybe you could help her find where she's from!" He was about to pass on the idea; he had one strange mystery girl to track down already! And for all his travels and explorations, he was none too likely to recognize some random amnesiac from... wherever it was Rachael had come from. But his sister looked at him so earnestly, with such perfect hopefulness, that he couldn't bring himself to deny the request. "Well... I can't promise anything, but I'll have a look. Will they be up by now?" "Oh, sure! You know how Sister Martha is! They were probably up before the sun. Come on, let's go!" She got up and headed out the door at a decent pace, leaving Anthony to catch up as she made her way through the streets of town to the old widow's house. Hannah seemed far too excited at the prospect of helping the girl, gushing excitedly about how she was so *beautiful* and how *sad* it was that she would be lost and stranded far away from her home and that her big brother would be able to help her find her way back to her home again. When they arrived at Martha's house, Hannah tapped the knocker a few times, then stood back to wait. After a few moments, Sister Martha answered the door. She was a lonely widow whose children had all grown up and moved out. Still in reasonable health and sound of mind, she had dedicated herself to "doing Sikkar's work," which mostly entailed helping out with various tasks around the church and baking meals for any family where they came down ill. And now, apparently caring for lost sheep as well. "Well, by Saint Dove's pure heart! Anthony! You've returned to us!" A bright smile lit her wrinkled face. "What brings you two to my door?" Hannah responded with a quick summary. "Well, he's spent the last few years traveling and seeing the sights, and I thought maybe he might be able to help Rachael find her home somehow!" The old widow nodded slowly. "That's a good idea, Hannah. Let me go fetch her. Come on in, sit down..." She turned and headed into her house, while Anthony and Hannah made themselves comfortable on her large, wide, soft couch. He could hear the sound of voices conversing momentarily, then Martha was on her way back. "She'll be right out, Anthony," she smiled, making her way to her old easy chair and sitting down slowly. She glanced down the hallway. "Yes, there she comes." Anthony looked up, and had to force himself not to stare at one of the most gorgeous, exotic beauties he had ever laid eyes on! He nudged his sister and quietly mumbled, "Hannah, why didn't you tell me Rachael was a catgirl?" ---- None of this was originally supposed to happen. The plan was for him to meet "Rachael" at the end of the previous chapter, under slightly different circumstances. But the characters sort of had other ideas, and I wanted to introduce Hannah, since she'd been referred to back in Ch. 1 but never really did anything yet...
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Post by anthony on Feb 23, 2010 10:05:31 GMT -5
Facing the Music, Chapter 4 I Dreamed A Dream So I started out looking for a pretty girl who mysteriously vanished from my life one day. I ran into a pretty girl who mysteriously re-entered into my life, and ended up being led to meet a new pretty girl whose entire life is one big mystery.That was how Anthony would later describe his thoughts upon meeting Rachael. His actual thoughts, in the moment, were much less articulate, and in fact consisted of very little actual thought. It was mostly pure emotion for the first few moments: surprise, awe, admiration, desire. She was a few inches taller than the average catfolk, with a slender, feminine build. Soft-looking orange and white fur covered her head and the few parts of her body not concealed by clothing, and her long, sinuous tail swayed slowly behind her as she approached. She clearly took pride in her appearance; Sister Martha would insist on her guest maintaining a certain standard of neat, clean decorum, but almost certainly not on Rachael brushing out her fur so flawlessly or wearing a green dress that drew attention to her wide yellow eyes. She smiled when she saw Hannah, and smiled wider at the visitor that she had brought, and Anthony could swear he heard, or maybe felt, a soft purr emanating from the general vicinity of her chest as she looked at him. But the illusion of perfection was broken, or at least cracked somewhat, when she opened her mouth. "Hello, Hannah. Who have you brrrought to visit me?" she asked, though Anthony had to play the words back in his head to make sense of them, the accent was so thick. Nothing like the sultry, dripping-honey voice he had imagined would necessarily have to go with such a lovely lady! Hannah grinned. "This is my brother Anthony. He just got back last night, after a few years traveling the worlds and seeing the sights. I thought maybe he might know where you're from." Rachael smiled back, purring louder this time. "That would be wonderrrful. So, intrrroduce me to this brrrotherrr of yourrrs..." She stepped closer, her hips swaying subtly and her tail waving more noticeably back and forth behind her back. The couch was wide enough to fit three people, and she sat down on the end of it, right next to Anthony, brushing her soft, fuzzy hand against his momentarily, making a little shiver rush up his spine. She turned and looked deep into his eyes, her bright yellow feline eyes seeming to stare through him, laying his desires bare. Or maybe he was just horny with an overactive imagination? "How can I help you help me, Anthony? Is therrre anything I can tell you?" The young bard found his mouth dry and had to take a few moments to work up some saliva to moisten his tongue and then swallow it before he could attempt to speak. It also gave him a moment to get his brain working, which was lagging rather badly behind the conversation. And her thick accent only made it wor--then it dawned on him. "Actually," he said slowly, still thinking even as the words began to come out, "you've already told me one important thing. I know you're not from anywhere around here. You have a very pronounced Lower South Sosel accent, and you certainly didn't pick that up anywhere on Welstar. You're a very long way from home, Rachael." "Lower South Sosel?" Hannah giggled at the long name. "Is that underneath 'Upper South Sosel' or something?" "Yes, actually," he replied, glad for the opportunity to turn away from the catgirl's entrancing beauty and face his sister, to give him the chance to think more freely for a moment. "A lot of the land on Sosel is covered in enormous jungles, where the trees are so enormous and strong that entire cities can be built up in the branches. But Rachael speaks like the people who live on the ground, in the southern parts of the jungle. There's actually a small catfolk village there, but I don't think that's where she's from." "Why not," came the voice from behind him. "If therrre is a village of my people therrre?" She leaned forward a little, her body pressing against his in an interesting and highly distracting combination of softness and firmness. She purred softly, sending gentle vibrations through her stomach and chest that transmitted easily into the young bard's back. Were she human, it would almost certainly be an intentional act of seduction, but with a catfolk it was a bit more ambiguous. They often tended to be much more social and casually affectionate than humans. It didn't stop his blood from pumping faster, though, especially the realization that, if he turned his head far enough, he would find his lips practically touching hers. He turned just enough that he could see her, and reached back to pet her back a little. He turned his nails in just a little, scratching gently at her back through the light fabric of her dress and hoping it would work. "Your form and coloration are all wrong. The catfolk there all resemble large cats: tigers, panthers, cougars, stuff like that. But you have the face and fur of an orange housecat. In fact, our family once had a little kitty with your coloration. He was male, though." Hannah giggled at that, sounding just a little surprised that he would mention it. The backscratching did work as intended, mostly. She pulled away from his side and turned her back to him, stretching a little and pressing herself against his hand. "That feels verrrrrry nice," she purred, squirming a little and rolling over a bit. She leaned back into the scratching, and with the way she turned, the weight of her body was too much to support with just one hand and she flopped across his lap, grinning up at him and purring loudly. "Rachael!" came Sister Martha's voice, sounding shocked. "What have I told you about doing that? Honestly, Anthony, you shouldn't encourage her. If you've spent time among her people you ought to know how she would react!" Anthony nodded, blushing a little at Martha's disapproval as Rachael quickly sat up again. "I'm sorrrrrry, Sisterrr Marrrtha," she sighed contritely. "I'm sorry too," Anthony said. "I have spent some time among her people, and I thought she would enjoy that. Do unto others as you would have them do unto you, right?" "Of course, dear," the old woman replied with a slightly disapproving tone. She gave him a knowing look. "I'm not so old that I forget how it feels to be young..." Anthony squirmed in his seat at her words. Did she have to say something like that to him in front of Rachael? In front of his sister? Especially when she was right? "Rachael, weren't you going to go buy some groceries for this week?" Martha asked. The catgirl nodded, rising and smiling at Anthony. "It was a pleasurrre meeting you." She turned to Hannah. "Would you like to come with me?" Hannah smiled. "Sure!" She gave Anthony a quick hug, then the two girls headed out together, leaving the young bard alone with Sister Martha. "Well, you've certainly grown a bit since I last saw you, Anthony," she said, smiling gently at him once the door was closed. "Never seen you go so sweet on a girl so quickly. But you oughtn't to take advantage of someone with no memory. How do you know she doesn't have a husband? Besides, she's not even human!" Anthony held up his hand, trying to ward off this sort of discussion. "I just want to help her find her home," he protested, trying to sound sincere. She didn't buy it, of course. "Yes, I'm sure you do. I saw how you were looking at her. I remember when men used to look at me like that. Ended up marrying one of them! We had a beautiful life together." She got a wistful look in her eyes. "It won't be too much longer now before I get to see him again, I think. But you don't quite look like you've got a quiet cottage and a house full of kittens on your mind, now do you? Too much adventure in you, Anthony." He squirmed in his seat. Sister Martha had always been quite perceptive, and what she was saying was uncomfortably close to the truth. "Don't worry," he replied, trying to sound reassuring and harmless. "Her... umm... her virtue is completely safe. I wouldn't dream of--" "Don't go saying something like that when you're dreaming of it right now as we speak," she teased. Then her face became serious. "I dreamed of her too, you know. It was a very special dream. The night before she wandered into the village, I had a dream where I saw the girl, lost in a storm, mewling sadly as she wandered from house to house looking for refuge. But all the houses were locked, shut up tight against the wind and rain. "The shutter on one of my windows had blown open, and I was trying to close it when I saw her. Poor thing was soaked from head to toe, and I was moved to compassion. How could I call myself a servant of Sikkar and turn away the needy? So I opened the door and called her in, and then I awoke. I didn't know what it meant until that afternoon, when she appeared in the town, in the flesh. She had no one to stay with, and I realized that my dream was a sign, a vision sent from Lord Sikkar. "So you be careful around her, Anthony. She's not some ordinary girl. She's special, important. Make sure to treat her with respect." He looked over at her, feeling a little weirded out by her story. "...all right. Don't worry. I won't do anything disrespectful to her, Sister Martha. I'll probably stick around the rest of the day, then head off tomorrow to see if I can find her home." He rose from the couch, smiling as he walked over to grasp her hand. "Thank you for having me over, but I have to be off for now. I'll let you know when I find something out." She smiled and stood, walking him to the door. "All right. You watch yourself, Anthony, and don't go getting into any trouble. It would break your parents' hearts if something bad were to befall you." Yeah, if only she knew... he thought as he headed out.
Sorry this chapter took so long to get ready. Between my computer dying on me and things being hectic at work, I haven't had much of an opportunity to write recently. Plus it turned out to be longer than I thought it would be. I was originally going to demonstrate Rachael's accent by having her make rather liberal use of Lolcat phrases, but I couldn't see any way to do that without turning her into a comic relief character, which wasn't what I had in mind, so I dropped the idea. Mostly. But don't be surprised if she says something silly in the future...
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Post by anthony on Mar 7, 2010 19:59:03 GMT -5
Facing the Music, Chapter 5 My Sheep Know My Voice As might be expected, Sister Martha lived not far from the local church. He passed by the building on his way to the marketplace, where he wanted to find his sister and Rachael. Well, mostly Rachael. Visions of long, swaying tails were dancing through his mind, as were fantasies involving gratitude-motivated rewards. So he didn't pay any particular attention to the man out weeding the gardens in front of the church. If he had, he would have taken another way around. "Anthony?" The call brought him out of his daydreaming. He turned and saw Father Grayson coming towards him, his hands stained with soil and plant juices. The priest was a relatively young man for his calling, barely past forty years of age. He had taken over shortly before Anthony left, after the aged, well-loved Father Tyler had finally gone on to his reward. In fact, Father Grayson had been a significant factor in Anthony's decision to leave. Not as significant as his parents, but even so... "Anthony, I'd heard you were back in town," the priest remarked as he drew near. He paused for a moment, giving the young man a critical, appraising look. "How have you been? You've certainly grown and matured some since you were here last. If I didn't know better I'd say you'd spent some time in the king's service. But that's not it, is it?" The bard shook his head. "No, I've mostly just been traveling. Visiting the other worlds and seeing the sights, y'know? Not too many people around here get to do that." Father Grayson shook his head. "Those in service to Sikkar are called on missions to many places. If that's all you were looking for--" Anthony took half a step back and shook his head. "Too much baggage, and too much getting hurt for my tastes. They sent Alan off to Crypt, and he came back and was laid up for a month with a broken leg. And have you ever been to Crypt? It's one big rock with a bunch of slightly less big rocks stacked on top of it. It's depressing! Nothing lives there. Just a bunch people who wish they did, and a bunch of rotting bodies that used to and are still moving. They made a few of them stop moving, but there are still plenty left. "But he really believed he was doing some good, and he wanted to go back once he'd healed up. And so they sent him off to Sosel. Lot nicer place, but he didn't get sent to see the sights. They had him hunting demon cultists, and this time when he came back home, it was in a big wooden box. He didn't do anyone any good then, did he? They told us his whole company was wiped out in an ambush, almost to the last man, before support arrived. His was one of the only bodies they managed to recover intact to send home. "And then you wanted me to go do the same thing. You know how bad it hurt my folks when I ran off? It woulda hurt them a whole lot worse to end up with two dead sons. I wasn't about to do that to them, or to Dylan or Hannah. So say what you will about me, but when there was no good choice to make, at least I had the good sense to pick the lesser of two evils." The priest bristled at this, especially at the end. "Evil? To give yourself to Lord Sikkar in his service? You would go so far to rationalize your own acts of cowardice?" Anthony glowered and fought to keep from raising his voice any further. "No, evil to give my family another dead son to grieve over," he said, maintaining a level tone. "You'd understand if you had one of your own." It was a common criticism of the priesthood and its vows, and quite a valid one, in the young bard's mind. Apparently it was common enough that Father Grayson had heard it before. "How dare you!" "How dare I what? Point out that it's difficult to understand the intricacies of a topic with which one has no personal experience whatsoever? Since when is it 'daring' to invoke common sense? Or does that even mean anything to you? It's never really been your strong suit, has it? You don't need any common sense when you've got everything you might need to think about already written down for you in some book somewhere!" The Templar seemed to stiffen even further, if that was possible. "How can you revile against the Holy Scriptures?" he asked in a voice thick with outrage. Getting angry would be pointless, so instead Anthony tried a different tactic: he laughed. "I'll 'revile against' any belief that teaches that it's good to make your family miserable, no matter where it comes from," he retorted, putting just enough scorn into his voice to get the point across. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have several important matters that require my attention. Good day, Father. I can only hope that when we meet next, it will be on more pleasant terms." With that he turned and walked away, ignoring any further sputterings of annoyance from behind him. He was glad not all Templars were like that... ---- This probably feels really short after the last couple chapters, which were actually a lot longer than I wanted to make them. It probably should have been a little longer, but there's not much more I could do in Father Grayson's introduction without giving away more than I ought to at this point in the story...
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Post by anthony on Mar 24, 2010 21:30:21 GMT -5
Facing the Music, Chapter 6 Downtown
That was a little too easy, Anthony thought as he walked away. It really was. Father Grayson should have had some better responses than he gave. It almost felt like what the Philosophers called a "strawman" argument, an where one creates an opponent who can't fight back in order to lend credence to their own thesis. But... who would argue a strawman's position for their own side? Oh well. It's probably just because I was right and he knew he couldn't win. Like his favorite book says, the light shineth in the darkness, and the darkness comprehendeth it not.He chuckled to himself at the thought of how the priest would react if he said that to him! He'd have likely turned a lovely shade of purple at the very least. But the young bard had more important things to do than antagonize self-righteous clerics at the moment, like hang out with pretty catgirls. Not many things took precedence over that, afterall! It didn't take too long to get to the marketplace; it was only a few blocks from the church. The town wasn't particularly large, but the market district was decent-sized, since they produced good crop yields and would often export to larger population centers on Welstar, and occasionally beyond it. He made his way slowly through the streets of the market district. There were a few people out, but not many, since it was still relatively early in the morning. There were several shops that sold foodstuffs, but girls with green dresses, orange fur and tails tend to stand out somewhat in groups of mostly humans, so it didn't take that long to locate his sister and Rachael. They were carrying cloth bags full of fruits and vegetables. "Those look heavy. Would you like some help?" he asked as he approached. Hannah smiled. "We've just about got everything, but yeah, another pair of hands would be useful." Anthony shook his head. "I can do better than that." He closed his eyes and concentrated, gathering mystic energies for a few moments, then bent down and drew a circle, a few feet across, on the ground with his finger. It began to glow and thicken, becoming a shadowy disc of some ethereal substance. "Here, put the bags inside the disc. You can't keep loading it up forever, but it'll carry more than than the three of us together could." Hannah looked a bit uncertain, but Rachael smiled at the bard and set her bags of food inside. "Thank you, Anthony," she responded with just a bit of a purr. Hannah blinked slightly as the bags disappeared into the disc. "Where did they go? That's not very tall--there's no room for those to fit!" Anthony just grinned. "It's a bit of magic I picked up. The Mages of Raji developed it for hauling big, heavy things around. I don't know exactly how it works, but it's larger on the inside than on the outside. I made this one kinda small, but they can get a lot bigger." "How much... biggerrr do they get?" asked Rachael as they started to walk towards another shop, the disc slowly trailing along behind Anthony. The catgirl brushed her tail against the back of his leg right as she said that, in a way that *had* to be intentional... didn't it? Anthony forced himself to ignore the potential double entendre. His sister was around, afterall! Instead he just shrugged nonchalantly and held his hands wide apart. "Oh, about so big around. Although the larger ones don't really seem to hold much more. It just affects the size of the entrance, mostly." Rachael thought about it for a moment, then nodded. "It's good that we don't have anything verrry wide to put in the disc, then. It would be a verrry tight fit!" Anthony caught his foot on a cobblestone when the catgirl said that, stumbling a little. Hannah glanced over at him, looking worried. "Are you all right?" "Yeah, sorry," he said, his cheeks coloring with embarrassment. "I'm fine. Just wasn't watching where I'm going well enough." Rachael put a fuzzy hand on his shoulder. "Be carrreful. I wouldn't want you to hurrrt yourrrself!" He shrugged his shoulders, trying to ignore the shiver that that touch sent up his spine. "I'm fine! But... thanks." He gave both girls a smile as the reached the next shop. He looked at Rachael's face carefully for a brief moment, but didn't notice any visible emotions beyond a bit of genuine concern, as one friend would have for another. That was just a little bit disappointing, and he hoped she couldn't see his true emotions on his face at the moment! He quickly put his "stage face" on, the carefully controlled expressions familiar to performers, merchants, spouses and anyone else who must feign sincerity and truthfulness on a regular basis. He hated having to hide behind a mask in front of his own family, but if his sister knew what he was really like, it would badly hurt both her feelings and her image of him, and he didn't want either to happen. They finished with their purchases without further incident, and headed back towards Martha's house. Anthony, being the one the disc was following, took the lead and the girls followed without really noticing or caring. He was glad they did; it allowed him to take a route that didn't lead past the church. Perhaps it would have been better if he hadn't tried to avoid another meeting with Father Grayson, though. A few blocks from Sister Martha's home, a young lady, about Anthony's age, spotted the three of them and hurried over. "Anthony? So you're really back?" The bard's stomach sank. He really was back, and unfortunately, she was still here and had found him. "Oh, hi Nicole! Wow, it's good to see you again!" he said with a stage-face smile, trying to look happy to see her. All he got for his trouble was a sharp, stinging slap across the face.
Wow, it's been a while since I updated this. I've been real busy with work and a few RL details, plus a bit writer's-blocked, but I finally got back in the groove yesterday. So here's a new chapter. I hope you guys like it!
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Post by anthony on Mar 30, 2010 9:52:07 GMT -5
Facing the Music, Chapter 7 Complicated Anthony hadn't really been expecting to be slapped in the face as soon as Nicole got within arm's reach, but then again it hadn't been completely unexpected either. He had probably deserved it. Deserved even more, if you were to be completely honest. What was completely unexpected was Rachael's reaction. A hiss and what sounded like a muttered curse in Feline were all the reaction the bard--or Hannah or Nicole--got, and then for a brief instant his vision was completely filled with the sight of a snarling, pouncing catgirl in a flowing green dress. Nicole was larger and heavier than Rachael--what Anthony had once affectionately thought of as "pleasantly plump" and most of his peers had described in less complimentary terms--but her greater weight meant little confronted with the powerful momentum that a catfolk's legs can provide. It was over just as quickly as it started, and Nicole was on the ground, groaning and puffing, with Rachael sitting on her stomach, ears flat against her head, her long tail lashing back and forth. She had one hand at the larger girl's throat. Anthony couldn't see if her claws were out, but from the way the other girl squirmed at her touch he figured they probably were, just a little. "I like you, Nicole Patterrrson, but nobody harrrms my frrriends, not even my otherrr frrriends. Do you hearrr me?" Rachael hissed in her heavily-accented speech. "Woah!" Hannah gasped. "Hey, Rachael, chill! Just calm down. That's nothing to threaten her over." Nicole panted and shoved Rachael off of her roughly, sitting up and brushing herself off with as much dignity as she could manage. Her round face, ordinarily sweet and friendly, was marred by an ugly sneer. "Well apparently you like *him* more than you like me." Rachael shook her head. "Sister Marrrtha and Fatherrr Grrrayson tell me that we must love everrrybody equally. And is it not rrright to prrrotect those you love from harrrm? I would do the same to him if he harrrmed you." This earned her a blank stare from Nicole as she tried to process her friend's logic and got lost somewhere. After a moment she muttered under her breath something that sounded suspiciously like "yeah, he'd probably enjoy that, the pervert..." Anthony decided to step in before things got further out of hand, even more confusing, or both. He held out his hand to Nicole. She pointedly ignored it and got to her feet unassisted, so he shrugged and turned to the catgirl. "Rachael, did they also tell you about the part where Lord Sikkar said that if someone strikes you on the cheek, it's better to turn the other cheek to them than seek retaliation?" "Perrrhaps I have not had that lesson yet." Rachael bit her lip, pondering the concept for a few moments. "But that would just get you, umm... strrrucken again!" He shook his head. "Maybe. But... I kind of had it coming." He turned to Nicole, trying to look as sincere as he could. "I'm sorry." "What do you mean?" the catgirl replied. Hannah took her aside and whispered something in her ear that made her eyes go wide. "He did?" Hannah nodded, and Rachael turned back to Anthony. "I should apologize to herrr as well. I am sorrrrrry, Nicole. I did not know that he had done that." Great. Now the girls are ganging up on me.He glowered daggers at his sister for sharing what ought to have been a private matter with another girl. Especially with another girl that he wanted to like him! She just giggled at him. Nicole, on the other hand, was not giggling. In fact, she looked to be on the edge of tears. "Why, Anthony? I really thought you loved me!" He bit his lip and let out a long sigh. Of all the various reunions he could have made here, this was the most difficult, and having Hannah and Rachael around just made it worse. "Yeah," he began after a few long seconds. "I did too." * * * It had been a hard ride, with no company but her horse, nothing to keep her mind off the strange events at Abarack, but Meredith had finally arrived at the port of Keystone. Anthony was no templar, then. He used a lute to focus his magic, like the Bards. She had hoped that was just an ugly rumor, because if it was true, then the rest of it... she shook her head. The idea of her childhood friend being one of the Tainted Ones was too horrible to contemplate. She had to get home quickly, to find the truth. She wasn't expecting another ship to leave before tomorrow, but when she went to book passage she found it was quite unexpectedly shipping out a day early, in just a few hours in fact. She whispered a small prayer of thanks to Sikkar and headed for the dock to climb aboard. She took no notice of the shadows in the alleyway between two warehouses across from the shipping company as she left. Even if she had looked, she probably would not have noticed a being made of living shadow lurking among the mundane shadows. But it saw her, and it smiled to itself. The pawn was in place, and everything was proceeding according to plan...
Of course there's a port of Keystone. The city's placed kind of nonsensically in-game, being landlocked but very near a large body of water. Real cities do not work that way.
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Post by anthony on Apr 12, 2010 10:26:50 GMT -5
Facing the Music, Chapter 8 Everything You Know Is Wrong
"Ahoy, Gifted One! Why are you following us?" After the incident with Nicole, Anthony had quickly taken his leave. He had been planning on hanging around for the rest of the day and heading out tomorrow, but he decided to reconsider. Too many things had gone wrong already. The last thing he wanted was to go back home and find that Ronnie Williams had suddenly found some reason to hate him out of the blue or something like that. It hadn't taken long to transport himself to Keystone and find the agent who had sold Merry the ticket. A few cold, windy hours of magical flight later, now he found himself flying a fair distance off to the side of the ship, just out of crossbow range--just in case. Judging By his fine coat and the note of authority in his voice, Anthony expected that the man hailing from the deck was the captain, or perhaps a senior officer. "Permission to come aboard, sir?" he shouted back, over the sounds of the ocean and the ship. "I mean no harm. I'm looking for a friend of mine who I believe is on board your ship." The officer gave him a wary look. "If you come aboard, you'll pay the fare, same as any other passenger." Anthony nodded good-naturedly as he floated closer to the ship. If this guy wanted to drive him off by charging him for a service that he clearly had no actual need of, the best thing to do was just to not let it bug him. "Sure! How much?" "Twenty-eight gold," he replied, stepping back and looking just a little bit nervous as Anthony alighted on the deck. It wasn't every day that he found himself in the presence of such an immortal avatar of destruction as the Gifted Ones were said to be. "Relax," Anthony said soothingly, opening his pouch and counting out the requisite number of coins. "I'm only here to look for a friend." He dropped the coins in the man's open palm. "Anthony Peers. And you are?" "David Morris, captain of this vessel. So this friend of yours, what was his name?" "Her name, actually. Meredith Walker." The captain gave him a slightly lecherous grin and raised an eyebrow. "Ah, I see! Well, if she's here you'll likely find her belowdecks. Not that you'll have much in the way of privacy, of course..." "I'll manage," Anthony said. "Thank you, Captain Morris." He made his way below and found his way to the passengers' cabins. It was a long hallway made up of mostly closed doors, with no indication as to which one she would be behind. He checked one of the doors and found it locked. Well, I could pick them and annoy everyone, or...He took out his lute and began to pluck out the melody of a silly old folk song about a farmer whose magical garden brought him a long series of humorous problems. It had been Merry's favorite song as a child. He sang in a loud, clear voice as he floated down the hallway, maintaining the magical flight so as to not have to focus too much on the rolling of the deck beneath him. About halfway down the row of doors, one of them opened and Merry looked out. "Where did you come from?" He grinned and stopped singing, quickly making sure to let his feet touch the ground as he walked a little unsteadily up to her. "Most recently, Keystone, where I found you'd sailed a day early. Mind if I come in? I need to talk to you." As he got close, he looked straight into her eyes for a moment, until she grew uncomfortable and looked away. But it was enough to settle any remaining doubt. She could have died and still been looking for him in Abarack because she had the Gift, but that was not the case. Gifted Ones could recognize each other on sight, and he didn't see it in her at all. She nodded, looking a little bewildered. "OK, but not for too long. I've got a cabinmate here. She's out at the moment, but I don't know how long she'll stay gone." She opened the door and he walked in. It was cramped, barely large enough for a bunk bed and a chest for storing personal articles. "How did you *get* here, Anthony? We're kinda in the middle of an ocean..." He shrugged. "Bards are good at getting around. I need to ask you something, though." She gave him a strange look. "So is the rest of it true too, then? Are you really a Tainted One, Anthony?" That was a question he'd definitely prefer to avoid, but there was no way to do it without being obviously evasive. "I can explain everything--I think. But you need to answer a question for me first." "I do?" She looked nervous. "All right... what's the question?" "Where have you been, and what have you been doing for the last four months?" She gave him a strange look. "At home, living my normal life. Why? What happened four months ago?" "I'm not sure. Do you remember falling off your horse?" She nodded, looking a bit annoyed. "I remember when the dumb thing threw me! No good reason. He just spooked at something and next thing I know I'm on the ground with four or five nasty bruises. Why? Who told you about that?" "Ron Williams. Except that's not quite how he told it. I'm not sure how to say this, but... his version of the story, the one everyone in town believes, is that you broke your neck in that fall. My family went to your funeral and everything." Her eyes went wide, and she opened her mouth to say something, but Anthony cut her off. "And my mom's in perfect health, too. So I have to ask again, where have you been and what have you been doing?" "But... what are you talking about? Ronnie wouldn't say something like that! He was out there with me, him and four or five others. He was the first person to reach me after it happened. Helped me up, let me lean on him until I stopped being dizzy... he knows I was fine, Anthony!" "Well, my family thinks you're dead too." "No they don't! I was just talking with them before I left! I told them I'd find you and bring you home. Just wait until we get there. You'll see!" He sighed. "How long?" "Four days. And no disappearing on me again! You'll do it right, OK?" He nodded. Using World Transport last time had apparently not taken him to the hometown that she believed she left from, and he wanted to know why. "OK, I'll get a cabin." "You still never answered my question, Anthony." She looked him in the eyes, and this time it was he who felt uncomfortable. "Are you a Tainted One?" He sighed. "We prefer the term 'Gifted', Merry." A look of shock and grief came over her. "Get out! Now!"
You ever stop and consider what NPCs think of the Gifted Ones? Constantly coming around on farming runs, slaughtering everyone in sight, and no matter how well you fight back, they just can't be stopped? Even if you kill them, they come back, stronger than ever. It's a wonder any of them trust us at all!
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Post by anthony on Apr 19, 2010 8:57:03 GMT -5
Facing the Music, Chapter 9 Who Says You Can't Go Home? Anthony hated ships. They wouldn't stand still under your feet so you could move around properly, they were cramped and tended to smell bad, the food was invariably horrible, and the proportion of pretty girls to general population was unconscionably low. On this ship, he had seen a grand total of one in the entire four days, and she was afraid of him! All in all, the bard was more than happy when the captain announced their arrival at Farport. Anthony had never been this way--when he left he'd been more interested in getting to Raji than in getting to other parts of Welstar, so he'd taken a rather different route--but home was just a day's ride up the road according to Merry. Not that it had been easy to get even this little detail out of her. "Stay away from me! Stop following me!" "I'm not following you. I'm just going to the same place you are." "You're following me there. You wanted to stop at some inn and have a hot bath and a fine meal. 'Oh, I simply *can't* go a week without dining on lobster and caviar, for I am a cultured bard and have grown accustomed to the finer things in life!'" She affected an over-the-top hoity-toity voice that would have been hilarious if it were not directed at him. "But when I headed for the stables, you followed, and you haven't left my side since." Anthony shrugged unapologetically. "Sorry, but you're stuck with me. I've got no other way to get home." "You can go on ahead. It's this same road the whole way." Anthony shook his head. "Last time I tried going back without you, I ended up somewhere other than where you came from. I'm not taking that chance this time." He floated up beside her, easily keeping pace with her horse as she used her heels to encourage her to move faster. "Stop doing that!" "Well, how else am I supposed to keep up with you? You won't let me ride with you. Being Gifted doesn't make me a tireless automaton or something." She pulled up on her reins, bringing her mare to a stop. "Just go! Leave me alone and go back to your happy home where your family's doing just fine and I don't exist and nobody knows that you've turned into a--" she bit her lip, but he could see the tears welling up in her eyes. "Into a what?" he asked, trying to keep the irritation out of his voice as much as he could. "What have I turned into, Meredith?" "A monster! A Tainted One!" Her face twisted in pain and she started to sob. Strangely, Anthony felt relief. Ever since he'd run into her outside the temple in Abarack, he'd felt a little bit off-balance. Nothing that had happened had made any sense so far. But now, seemingly for the first time, he was confronted with something he knew exactly how to deal with: a crying girl. He moved closer to her and put his arms around her, gently holding her head against his chest. "It's all right," he whispered. "I haven't changed. I'm still your friend, Merry." She half-growled, half-whimpered something incoherent and pushed at him halfheartedly, but he held on. After a few moments she stopped struggling and just wept and let herself be comforted. He held her until she had finished crying, not saying anything, just gently holding her until she had had time to ge it all out of her system. After a few minutes she gave a long, shuddering sigh and pulled away from him gently. He let her this time, and she smiled weakly and looked up at him with wet eyes. "...thanks," she whispered. He nodded. "I'm still your friend." She sighed again, her voice a bit less quavery now. "Well... can you stop doing *that*? It kinda creeps me out." She gestured to his feet, which were a bit below where the level of hers but still a fair distance off the ground, and him without the benefit of a horse to hold him up. He grinned at her. "Probably. But only if you let me ride with you." She hesitated a moment, still a bit nervous, then nodded. "...OK, I guess." He came up behind her and sat down on the horse, gently putting his arms around her waist to hold on. It wasn't the most comfortable thing he'd ever experienced--she only had one saddle and it only fit one person, for starters--but it was worth a bit of discomfort to have her comfortable with him. The ride didn't actually take the rest of the day, probably because Merry kept urging the horse to move at a good canter. Anthony spent most of the time looking about for any signs of familiar terrain that would tell him they were close, but he didn't really notice anything. The sun was just beginning its trip down towards the horizon, when he heard Merry unexpectedly gasp, "Oh Sikkar! No!" He looked up at the unexpected exclamation, tightening his grip on her waist involuntarily as she dug her heels in and urged the horse to move faster. After a moment he realized what she had noticed. He'd been too focused on looking around to recognize what he had *heard.* He definitely heard it the next time, though. The somber peal of a massive church bell. They reached the outskirts of town and didn't see many people around. Merry slowed her horse to a more sane rate for traveling down city streets, but it was still a rather quick walk. She made her way to the church, and they found a large crowd gathered in the cemetary behind the venerable edifice. In front of the crowd was Father Grayson. Near him was a casket, and gathered around it were Anthony's father, his sister and his brother, and a few close friends of the family. His mother was nowhere to be seen.
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Post by anthony on Apr 19, 2010 21:14:50 GMT -5
Facing the Music, Chapter 10 All I Ask of You Something's wrong here!Anthony suddenly reached forward and grabbed the right-side rein from Merry's hand. He pulled on it and nudged the horse rather ungently in the ribs with his heels. His left hand shot up and clamped itself over his friend's mouth just in time to stifle a shocked exclamation. The horse turned rather quickly, and Anthony made sure she was a few hundred yards outside of town before he allowed the poor, confused mare to stop, or removed his hand from the mouth of the poor, confused girl sitting in front of him. "Nameless One's own gaze, Anthony! What are you doing?" He took a deep breath. "Merry, you trusted me enough to let me ride with you. Trust me just a little bit further, OK? I don't quite know what it is, but something was very wrong back there." She didn't buy it. "Well yeah, something was very wrong! Your mom died before I could get you back to her! She still loved you, even after everything you did, and she never got to see you one last time. That's about as 'very wrong' as it gets!" "No, no, how do I say this? Something was fundamentally wrong back there. It's like..." he thought for a moment. "I don't even know what. OK, you know how they say that the Gifted Ones can't die, and that that's why we spend so much time fighting?" She tensed a little, but nodded after a moment. "Well, that's not exactly true, not for all of us at least, but close enough." He lowered his voice. "The part they don't tell you is how much what we do instead of dying HURTS! You have that happen to you a few times, you start to get a bit of a head for danger. And I have no clue why, but we were both in as much danger back there as I've ever been in. If any of them had looked up and seen us..." "Anthony, you're crazy! That's your family and your friends. They're not gonna do anything to us." "Maybe not to you, if you were alone. I don't really know. But just... trust me. If we'd walked in there together, we'd be fighting for our lives right now. You any good at fighting?" She shook her head. "Yeah, me neither. Not all Gifted Ones are the warriors they tell all the horror stories about. I tend to leave that part up to the Fighters and the knightly orders, and I don't see any paladins around at the moment." "Anthony, those are your--" He cut her off before she could repeat her earlier protest. "I just met my family and friends a few days ago, Merry, and there was no talk going around about a funeral in my mom's future." She turned halfway in the saddle, turning her head to look him straight in the eye. "So what are you saying? That wherever you were was right, and this is somehow a mistake? That me being dead is right, and me being here, alive, is 'fundamentally very wrong?'" She took a couple of deep breaths before continuing. "Anthony, how do you even know where you were? You used your bard magic to get in and back out. No real traveling. No trail. No connection between there and Keystone or Abarack. But you were on the ship with me, and we crossed every mile from the shore to here together. So how can you possibly say that something is wrong here, Anthony?" He raised an eyebrow, impressed and a bit surprised at her reasoning. When had his bratty kid sister's bratty little friend become so intelligent? About the same time Hannah grew up, I guess."I don't know." "How can you even know where you were was real at all? How do you know you didn't imagine it?" He thought for a moment. "Well, you know I didn't imagine it. You saw me vanish, back at the temple, right? And I was right about you falling off your horse four months ago, right? How did I learn about that if none of it was real?" Then an idea came to him. "OK, another thing. A few months ago, a girl with no memories of who she is wandered into town, right?" Meredith nodded. "Yeah. Poor, bedraggled girl showed up out of nowhere in the middle of a storm. Sister Martha took her in. Decided to call her Rebecca, just to give her a name, y'know, until she remembers who she is." "...Rebecca?" "Yeah. What were you expecting?" she asked. "Well, you were right on track with the one I met, right up until Sister Martha didn't end up calling her Rachael. Anyway, go on. What does Rebecca look like?" Meredith shrugged. "Like... a girl. Kinda plain, a bit worse than plain, to be honest. About as tall as me, average build, black hair that's always all scraggly, like she doesn't take good care of it, and she's a bit pale. Why? What does 'Rachael' look like?" Anthony shook his head. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you." "Lemme guess? Tall, exotic and beautiful, with silky hair flowing down to the middle of her back?" "Not at all. Well, sorta. Exotic and beautiful, yes, but she was a bit on the petite side. And her hair... wasn't exactly hair." "Huh?" "Rachael isn't human, Merry. She's a catfolk." "Catfolk? You mean like that one time, with the traveling performers?" "Yeah. Catfolk are native to a different world. That's why we don't see too many of them around here. So what's Rebecca like? As a person, I mean?" "I dunno, really. She's kinda quiet, shy. Keeps to herself a lot. ...so then I suppose Rachael is vivacious and outgoing?" The bard nodded, trying not to let his cheeks color at the memory of her behavior. "Yeah, pretty much. And I know this all sounds like I'm making the whole thing up, like I'm going crazy or something. But just... please, trust me on this. That's the only thing I can ask, but I need it, OK?" She sighed. "So what do we do now?" Anthony thought for a second. "'We' don't do anything. You go back alone. Tell them I refused to come back with you. Technically you'll be telling the truth, and from what you've been saying it's not likely to lower anyone's opinion of me or anything. And try not to go near the church until the funeral's over, just in case." She gave him a worried glance. "And what will you be doing?" He shook his head. "I've got a few things to check up on. Don't want to say what. That way, no one can find out from you if things go wrong. But I'll be back pretty soon. Maybe tonight, maybe later this week. OK?" She looked like she was about to nod, then suddenly she thought better of it. "No! That's not OK, Anthony!" She shook her head emphatically. "You need to come back with me! You're imagining this whole thing!" "Meredith, look around you. What do you see?" She gave him a blank look before turning her head to either side. "The road. Some trees. Town's back that way. That's about it." He nodded. "And listen. What do you hear?" A few moments of hesitation. "Not much, really." "Exactly. Do you know what that means?" Her eyes got wide and she drew a deep breath, about to scream. Anthony realized his mistake just in time. "Wait!" he hissed. "No, I don't mean 'nobody around to notice me murdering you.' I'm still your friend, remember. But think! What else does that mean?" She let out her indrawn breath, panting a little. "I... don't know. What are you getting at?" "Remember when you were seven, playing with Hannah and some other kids down by the stream, and you fell in and almost drowned? If Dylan hadn't been so quick to get to you, you might not be here today. Remember?" She nodded. "Yeah, I remember. So what?" "So listen. Look. Where's the stream?" She paused, looked off to her left where it should be, and the blood began to slowly drain from her face. "Where's the stream, Merry? And why have you never noticed that it's not there until just now? Now, will you do what I asked?" She nodded silently, wearing the expression of one who is slightly in shock. "Good. I'll be back as soon as I can." He hopped down off the horse and started looking around carefully, impressing upon his mind the characteristics of the area so he'd be able to find his way back. "Tell them I wouldn't come, OK? And keep your eyes peeled for anything else that doesn't quite fit. But don't tell anyone. Can you do that?" "I... I think so." "Good."
Well, here's another chapter, finished pretty much in record time. Not sure why this one was so easy to write, but I got the idea and it just sort of flowed out my brain and into my keyboard. The next one will probably take a little longer, though. BTW at first I was thinking of calling Ms. Not-Rachael "Leah," but I decided that would just be asking for Epileptic Trees to start sprouting up, so I changed it.
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Post by anthony on Apr 25, 2010 0:25:42 GMT -5
Facing the Music, Chapter 11 Holding My Thoughts In My Heart As Meredith turned her horse to head back into town, and as Anthony walked a few paces away and prepared a travel spell, neither of them thought to look up. It would not likely have done them much good even if they had. The being of shadow that was watching them was very good at remaining unseen. How did the Target detect my presence, even unaware of what it was he sensed? Now the Target is leaving, alive! That was not supposed to be, and They will be quite displeased!
It raged internally. It could probably strike now and kill the Pawn, but that was not part of the plan, and it lacked the might to face the Target, a Guild-trained Bard, alone. All that could be done was to report its failure, and hope that They were not too displeased. * * * Merry had no way of knowing where his spell was going to take him. Probably the last thing she would have guessed was that he would jump back to the home he had recently left. He did so, but only after a quick trip to Raji to retrieve a wand that would make him invisible temporarily. He'd be showing up in broad daylight this time, and he did not want to be seen by anyone. He walked out of the town hall and, after a quick check to ensure that there was no funeral in progress at the church, headed for the road out of town as quickly as he could. He knew he was right, he knew this was a waste of time, but the niggling doubt in the back of his head wouldn't leave him alone until he checked. After walking a couple minutes out of town, he looked off to the side. Gods and demons!The stream was not there. A sense of uneasiness gripped Anthony. Something was quite wrong, and he didn't know what or how or why. And the only clue he really had was in a town that held sure danger for him. As he thought about it more and more, he realized there was only one thing to do. But not now. Right now, he needed to do something else. He held his lute and began to strum the strings, and a minute later he was in Sauronan. He made his way to one of the nicer restaurants along the waterfront and ordered a warm meal, eliciting much gratitude from his stomach. He splurged a little, ordering lobster and fine caviar, not because he particularly liked it, but simply out of his natural sense of perverse irony. He ate slowly, taking the time to enjoy the meal. He hoped it wouldn't end up being his last. When it was done, he simply sat in his booth, staring out the window and watching the ocean. They said that watching the waves break on the shore helps to calm a troubled mind. They say that viewing the ocean in all its vastness helps to put things in perspective. "They" really didn't have a clue. By the time enough hours had passed for Anthony to be reasonably sure that the funeral was over, he was as conflicted and confused as ever. The one thing he knew was who he needed to talk to next. He paid for his food and stepped outside, preparing another World Transport spell, this time attempting the difficult task of taking him to a place he did not truly know, the town he thought of as "Merry's home." He misplayed a note in the intricate melody and had to try again, then again a third time before he was successful. When he finally did arrive, he found himself in the town hall. He quickly headed out, drawing a few startled looks but not stopping long enough for anyone to speak to him. He needed to talk to Rebecca, but he couldn't go directly to Sister Martha's house, not without revealing more than he wanted anyone to know and potentially putting Merry in danger. No, first he would have find out about the unknown girl from a legitimate source, such as his sister. He headed towards his house, walking quickly to avoid having anyone try to speak to him, even though he was in no real hurry to get there. It was likely to be unpleasant. Oh well. Time to face the music, I guess.
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