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Dark Ages: Dangerous Beasts Afoot

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  • Dark Ages: Dangerous Beasts Afoot

    Posted by Branwen M'Orcant on 09-02-2002 03:39 PM:
    Dark Ages: Dangerous Beasts Afoot

    Lurking for several hours outside the main buildings, in a dark and drippingly dank place, Branwen had been waiting out the oncoming of the night in a severely uncomfortable position; as she emerged now, she appeared at first a little shaky on her feet.

    The onset of nightfall didn't seem to make her any more relieved; rather, she made slow progress on her way to her destination. Hopping from shadow to shadow, still under the cover of the trees, the loudly protesting bag over her shoulder was the only thing that gave away her presence by its night-chilling high-pitch screams.

    Something that made quite a bit of noise for its size scuttled along the grass path in front of her just as she was about to risk letting her feet meet the general road leading to the gates of her previous abode. Her sense of smell told her it was edible, even if not a great delicacy - but the gnawing void in her stomach didn't make much of a distinction at this point anymore.

    Dropping the straggling sack from her shoulders onto the ground with a loud ugly thump, she sprang forward with unnatural grace and tackled the small creature from behind, catching it between her hands. She didn't take a closer look, and in a deep satisfying bite took its head straight off.

    Once she had satisfied her most urgent needs, she got up from the ground with the leftover carcass still in her hand and spit out the bones of the beast, then shambled back to the by now loudly growling bag, picked it up and resumed her way, all the while sucking for all it was worth on the left-overs.

    Such it was still as she entered the Sith Citadel and got to the room she remembered the Council to sit in judgement. With one last longing sigh, she drained the last drop of blood from the small creature and finally thought to inspect it further.

    It had been a scurrier, one of those pesky little plagues that infested most planets these days. Well, there was one less of them now.

    She'd forgotten to keep to the shadows, and shrank back as in the center of the Council Room she walked straight into a beam of palest moonlight. It was then that she realised that her feet had already carried her where she had wanted to go, and she grinned with satisfaction. The sucked-out scurrier carcass she threw over her empty shoulder to hit a wall somewhere with a hollow thud.

    Not being certain if anyone was around just now - since she always seemed to have trouble concentrating on anything in this particular place (there were several voices in her head talking all in a muddle whenever she was there and nothing made sense) - she decided to simply state her plea into the room and hope someone would be listening.

    "We needs a new Master."

    The bag on her shoulder was moving in strange contortions and emitting angry screeching noises now - it seemed to have calmed down for a little bit. Which was good - it was very difficult to carry to carry it otherwise, and the noise had really started to get on her nerves.

    She remembered something else.

    "We wants Varlon Konrad as a new Master."

    Posted by Lynch on 09-05-2002 06:37 PM:

    Having sensed her approach his suspicions of her coming to the council room were soon confirmed as she entered, with one raised eyebrow he looked towards the sack she brought with her. A sense of curiosity and bewilderment as the sack moved and emitted from within the sounds of a creature very much still alive trapped in its confines.

    What drove this woman and her on going nature was an wonderment in itself. He had considered getting her evaluated once only to dismiss the idea. Whatever problems her eccentric behavior may prove to be at times the value in her current state out weighed those negatives, her frame of mind might leave much to be desire but the result on those who met her could be beneficial during the right circumstances.

    A smirk tucked at the corner of his lips as his eyes trained on her. “ You wish for the Lord Konrad to guide you in the path of darkness has been acknowledged. It shall be his judgement of your worth that decides your fate.”

    The truth was simple. If she ever stopped proving to be effective with her unusual behavior she could always be killed.

    Posted by Varlon Konrad on 09-05-2002 08:20 PM:

    Unlike normal, the Sith Lord known as Varlon Konrad entered into council room without his customary manipulation of shadows from around him. He also wasn't dressed in his normal robing and jumpsuit, but now resembled more a holy priest than Death itself. The only things that stood him out from an ordinary priest was that his collar tab was blood red rather than white, the lack of a cross-endorned necklace, and the fact he wore his shirt with the sleeves rollen up. At his side, however, was his twin darksabre of which he never left without, and in his right hand a metallic travel mug, obviously filled with coffee or other hot, caffinated drink. "What in the bloody hell is worth rousing me during the latter hours of my day…" Varlon grumbled before sipping his coffee and walking up the steps towards where the Masters and Lords of the Empire routinely would meet, obviously not taking notice of Branwen just yet. "Master Lynch, where is this Sith that the messenger spoke of, that requested I take up training of?"

    Posted by Lynch on 09-05-2002 08:38 PM:

    Studying the new look for the Dark Lord of the force Lynch rose a hand towards the ground on which Branwen stood, the sack beside her letting out a sound as it shook wildly than went silently with only a few movements being visible occurring from inside. “The woman there...she has requested you to bring her into the proper order of things....judge her as you....

    With somewhat an amused look the Sith Master noticed the sack slowly begining to slink away."....see fit....”

    Posted by Varlon Konrad on 09-05-2002 08:56 PM:

    Varlon stole a glance over his shoulder towards Branwen and then burst out into a fit of laughter. After a few moments, his laughter died down, and he again sipped his steaming hot coffee. "You called me here to see whether or not I wished to take some deranged, mentally disturbed beggar as my apprentice…?" Again he chuckled before taking his seat and smirking at Branwen. "I'll give her a chance to explain to me why it is she... or whatever it is... chose me."

    Posted by Branwen M'Orcant on 09-07-2002 02:32 AM:

    Oh such a sight!

    Branwen stared openly at the man who had joined her and the Sith Master. He didn't look anything like she had thought he might. Which was not to say she didn't think him acceptable, she just thought he was.... dressed funny.

    She didn't like the fact that he was laughing at her. Didn't he know that that was a bad thing to do? She had learned a little since her arrival many months ago, and laughing at someone was considered bad mannered.

    Maybe she would need to teach him this.

    His words she heard quite well - her hearing was just as good as that of the rest of her kind - but she had heard worse than that and it failed to make her feel angry anymore. He would definitely need to be taught this "manners"-thing, however.

    To his question she could only give him one answer, and such she did.

    "We be smelling you and you be smelling acceptable."

    Then she heard the low rustling of cloth on ground, and looked around to check on the bag - to find it was trying to slink off. She ran after ti and jumped on top of it, pinning it to the ground. Then she proceeded to slap at the contents of the bag until it stopped moving entirely.

    Posted by Varlon Konrad on 09-08-2002 06:14 PM:

    "Perhaps that's because I bathe regularly," The Lord said before smirking and sipping more of his coffee. "And don't take to dragging in some… thing that I found in a gutter somewhere."

    The Sith Lord then crossed one leg over the other while watching Branwen, a hint of curiosity about her in his eyes. "Is there any other reason, other than the fact that I smell good to you and your… thing?"

    Posted by Branwen M'Orcant on 09-08-2002 08:01 PM:

    Branwen got up slowly from the ground, keeping her foot firmly fixed to the ground on top of the bag, pinning it down effectively. Its contents were still and silent for once.

    Finally standing upright again, she painstakingly wiped the dust and grit from her hands before addressing the Sith.

    "We wasn't saying you be smelling good - we was saying you smelled acceptable. There be a difference in that."

    The bag was starting to shake - at first almost imperceptibly, then stronger and stronger. Suddenly, with a bloodcurdling shriek, it wrenched itself free and not so much ran rather than rolled through the Council chamber.

    It got her ire up. It wasn't supposed to behave like this!

    From somewhere underneath the folds of her robes she drew a blaster, set it to Stun with a quick flick of her finger on the switch, and loosened a shot at the roving bag. It sank down again.

    Irritated, she turned back to the Sith, her sharpened Vampyre's teeth catching a beam of the moonlight and flashing dangerously in the dark.

    "No. You be smelling acceptable. No more, no less."

    Posted by Varlon Konrad on 09-09-2002 08:26 PM:

    With a chuckle, he watched the drama play out in front of himself before leaning forward slightly. "Perhaps if you'd bathe more often, you'd smell 'acceptable' too," Varlon said with a grin before leaning back. "And you still didn't answer my other question. Was there any other reasons other than how I smell that rose you to choose me?

    "Or do you base all your choices on how things smell?"

    Posted by Branwen M'Orcant on 09-10-2002 08:21 AM:

    The look she gave him was scathing, yet it seemed as if the air around her was suddenly dropping to an icy chill.

    Branwen was used to having all kinds of creatures stare and laugh at her - it did not touch her, for in most cases she was tempted to do the same about them. She had lived so secluded from the rest of civilisation for so long that almost anything outside of her normal field of vision seemed ridiculously strange and laughable to her. But her own world had been enough for her, and she had been - relatively - content there.

    But when her circumstances had changed, she had been forced to adapt her view and knowledge to take in that of her new environment; and even though she still preferred her own company to that of others, it did not mean she did not now know what the company of "others" was like. She had learned only too well.

    She had felt relatively irate at what had been happening so far, the Sith Lord she had picked out for herself not included. But now his sneering manner and jeering remarks set fuel to that ire - and as usual when she felt angry, her entire being seemed to change into something more powerful, something rather savage.

    Strangely enough, this change was most pronounced in the way she spoke. Her peculiar accent dropped away, her somewhat muddled speech became clipped and precise - the dangerous edge to her entire being seemed to flow directly from the way she suddenly chose her words.

    She advanced a few steps towards him, then stopped in mid-stride as if checking herself, and addressed the Sith Lord in such a low voice that even he needed to lean forward in order to hear her.

    "Perhaps if you would look beyond what you see, you would not have to pay with your life for insulting me."

    With supernatural speed - for indeed she was a vampyre of no lesser powers than those due to her kind - she had stormed forward and had the Sith Lord in a deadly grip on his throat before he could find any reason to think he was in danger of her doing so.

    "I have come here to become a Sith - and you WILL teach me how to do this. It is no concern of yours what I base my choice for you as that teacher on."

    Whether or not she realised that her grip on his throat was no more than a scurrier trying to bite a rancor to death - meaning, pretty much uneffective - was not clear; but she might have believed it just then, and still had not learnt enough about the Sith to know that what she had done had probably been a very unwise choice if she intended to stay in one piece.

    Posted by Varlon Konrad on 09-10-2002 11:15 AM:

    Varlon could not help but let a smile blossom on his face, despite the fact she could have attempted to crush his throat. Instead, he just watched her carefully a moment, then spoke. "I had a feeling you were more than what you had appeared to be," He said, his tone no longer mocking, but serious. "You have great potential, Branwen, just not the discipline to use it properly just yet."

    Grasping her wrist, he glared into her eyes a moment. "Now, unless you wish to become a piece of overcooked barbeque… I highly suggest you remove your hand from my throat."

    Posted by Branwen M'Orcant on 09-23-2002 02:50 PM:

    If she heard his words, she did not acknowledge by any particular look or sound. Instead, her eyes grew large as they fastened upon the little spot just at the side of his throat, underneath the jaw bone..... with a weird little flicking motion of her tongue in the corner of her lips, she gazed transfixed at that spot, at the slow pulsating beat of blood running through a vein which she as much felt and heard as saw.

    It was only just now that her new instincts came to the fore, that her bloodlust took over the rest of her, turned her somewhat addle-brained character into something different - stronger, more assured, daring.

    Heheheheh heh hehehehehee....

    The sound of the hollow chuckle echoed into the Council Chamber. It did not so much come from her as seem a part of her, something nasty and vile and much like the flickering of a snake's tongue before lashing out to catch a tasty morsel or two to consume.

    The force behind the grip on Varlon Konrad's throat turned fiercer; with bloodlust no longer hidden in her eyes and a weird little low growl that could have belonged more to the thing inside the sack than to her, her head slowly moved forward, towards the pulsating vein.

    Posted by Varlon Konrad on 10-06-2002 11:47 PM:

    Growling more in annoyance than anything, the Sith Lord moved to place a palm on Branwen's chest, blue-black tendrils of energy caressing his knuckles and fingers as he concentrated the Force into a more pure, raw destructive power. Placing his hand upon her chest, he suddenly released the fury that he had built up into a singular point, a small concussion wave shaking a small area of the council room as the energies rippled across the miniscule distance between his hand, and her torso. The sheer power of the bolt threw Branwen not only off Varlon, but a good five metres away from him. The air about the council room now reeked of ozone, and still retained a crackle of energy within it as the Sith Lord took to his feet and shot a glare down at Branwen.

    "Next time, I may very well kill you," He sneered as crossed his arms across his chest. "Consider yourself fortunate."

    Posted by Lynch on 10-07-2002 03:06 PM:

    Laughing out the Sith Master could hardly hide his look of enjoyment at this entertainment that was taking place, far too often those who requested an audience were content to be near silent as they spoke their request and did not show any fire nor determination that would do them well. So far this act had played out brilliantly much like a live play, each of the two, both Varlon and the woman known as Branwen were giving quite a performance in his estimate. For Branwen’s sake he thought it best if she did well to learn to control her new found blood lust, one which he himself had imparted on her in a fit of rage and anger. It would be interesting to see her development in the area of being one of the undead unless she met her end prematurely.

    Posted by Branwen M'Orcant on 10-08-2002 04:18 PM:

    She was going to get it, she was going to get it, she was going to get it, she was going to g---

    Before she could get close enough to the seductive spot of skin underneath which she had felt the coursing of that sweet juice called blood - and so close had she been to it that she could almost smell that blood - something gave her an almighty kick into her chest and flung her with great force into the air and down again to land several meters away from where she had been.

    For a millisecond, all she could think of was blood, all she felt was rage; then she caught herself again and swallowed the disappointment.

    Reflexive of almost an entire century of being quite alive, she put her hands on her stomach, and grimaced as she lay there hunched upon the ground.

    "Owwwwwww," she finally said. "That hurt."

    It didn't, really; but the reflex to feel pain was still there as much as the habit of breathing - no matter how long she would be a Vampyre, she would always be trying to catch a breath or inhale when caught unawares; old habits did indeed die hard.

    Hollowly, she heard the hall reverberate with the dry sound of laughter upon stone. She sensed more than saw that it was her "maker" who was laughing; but really she knew it - always would be able to pick it out from a million others.

    Where a second ago her mouth had been contorted in rage, it was now wearing a decided pouty look.

    "What you be doing that for?"

    It wasn't quite certain whom she was addressing with the question; probably Varlon, or even Jedah.... possibly both.

    Posted by Varlon Konrad on 11-04-2002 12:21 AM:

    "Unless you are capable of killing me," Varlon said as he rose to his feet, shooting Branwen a glare. "Do not attempt such a hostile display towards your Master again, otherwise, as I promised, I will kill you."

    Crossing his arms across his chest, he looked down upon Branwen, a slight look of disgust in his face at her expression. One very much like a child whom had her favourite toy taken away from her as punishment for a misdeed. "And if you're going to cry… do it elsewhere. Sith aren't supposed to show signs of weakness, and crying is most definitely one."

    Posted by Branwen M'Orcant on 11-05-2002 02:29 AM:

    A little grumpily, she decided to answer to that - and reverted back to her usual form of speech.

    "We don't cry."

    She cast an insulted look back at her new Master, and decided maybe she should learn to control her hunger pangs a little more - it wasn't very much fun to be flung about like that, nor did she cherish the thought of having to look for another Master if this one ended up serving as a snack to her.

    To her horror, however, she found herself stammering out an apology.

    "You s-s-see, we haven't had f-f-food but for a lil-little vermin here and th-there. It b-b-be nice being a Va-va-vampyre and all, what with no d-d-dying, but it be a-a-a bit hard on -th-th-the stomach."

    Branwen tilted her head to the left and pulled it back a little, in surprise. Stammering was a new thing - she hadn't done that before; she knew, however, that it was embarrassing.

    She had meant to say more, but this new turn of events shut her up. So she just stood there, staring into space with a somewhat empty look in her face, while she was trying to remember what she knew about this thing.

    Posted by Varlon Konrad on 11-25-2002 12:07 AM:

    "There's plenty of victims always inhabiting Rama's Bar," Varlon said as he grabbed his unfinished coffee and started to walk towards his new apprentice, then past. "If you start getting these hunger pains, go feed on one or two dozen. Sure, you might end up a little light headed from the alcohol in their blood, but its something, isn't it?

    "I would suggest you do so in the next few hours, since at sunrise, you'll be out in the desert until dusk…"

    OOC: Sorry I've been the worst with getting things moving lately, Mara. x_x

    Posted by Branwen M'Orcant on 12-21-2002 05:45 PM:


    she said, a little crossly and not just a tad stubbornly.

    "We have come to be trained, and we needs to be trained. We insist we be trained now. Hunger can wait - there be always another scurrier, if nothing better."