|
|
Post by Ibelin Dumont Baltonien on Nov 24, 2014 18:35:48 GMT -6
With that, she left. She left Ibilin wanting desperately to guard his own precious babies, and he felt like he'd jus tbeen violated completely. But what he needed to say was going to be said nonetheless, and so he stepped forwards and cleared his throat.
"Sarea," he began, taking himself by surprise completely. This was the first time he'd actually recognised her by name, mainly because for the most part he'd forgotten what it was, and also because 'Titties' had always seemed more fitting for her. But he felt that speaking it would show some form of compromise. "I've got myself an idea. If you would stay to listen to it, that'd be fantastic."
|
|
|
|
Post by Sarea Riel Dirao on Nov 24, 2014 18:38:53 GMT -6
Had...he just spoken her name?
Ibilin, the sordid warrior whose personality was mainly piloted by his genitals, had spoken her name. She was so used to him calling her 'Titties', a reference to her most prominent feature, that it didn't register at first.
She turned her head to him and saw his face holding an air not of lust, but of concern, and of brilliance. Only when he suggested an idea did she feel the need to confront him again.
"Well," she spat coldly, "what is this 'idea' of yours?"
|
|
|
|
Post by Ibelin Dumont Baltonien on Nov 24, 2014 18:47:54 GMT -6
"Well, you saw how he treated you lot back there," he began, pointing to both Sarea and Lukis. "If I know one thing for sure, that's not how you treat a person. Trust me, I know how women should be treated, and what he did was not anywhere close to that. Yeah, I know, we all have promises that we can get things if we work for this lunatic, but it's pretty damned clear to me that none of us like to work for this man."
He began pacing around the room, running his fingers along his sword hilt and scratching his milk-mustache amount of facial hair. "There's no bloody way I wanna work for this lunatic anymore, especially after killing good ol' Ass 'n Hips, savvy?"
|
|
|
|
Post by Sarea Riel Dirao on Nov 24, 2014 18:53:04 GMT -6
What Ibilin was speaking of was true: she hated the Raven with all of her available loathing, although she'd been planning to reserve just as much for herself. She hated working for him, and manipulating her friends into doing terrible crimes or sending them to their deathbeds.
It was when he named Idina was he did that she raised her hand to his face, leaving a ripe red marks on the same cheek that had the dragon scar, or so he bragged. For all she knew, that could be from too many women hitting that exact spot.
"Her name is Idina Doc, you nymph!" she shouted as he rubbed his cheek. Calming down, she noticed that what he was saying had potential to lead to something, and so she backed down from her confrontational stance and allowed him to continue.
|
|
|
|
Post by Ibelin Dumont Baltonien on Nov 24, 2014 18:59:13 GMT -6
After his cheek stopped swelling like a fat German opera singer who just made a mistake on stage, he continued his explanation.
"Right, Idina Doc. But that's beside the point. My point is the fact that we all hate working for him, and yeah! He just told us the consequences of treason, but do I give a bloody damn about that? That's nowhere near as bad as some of the things that have happened to me."
He turned to Lukis with a stern look. "You want honour, savvy? Well, let me tell you that you ain't getting any with the way you're going. In fact, you're spiraling away from honour."
Then, he turned to Sarea and placed his hands on her shoulders, careful not to get distracted by her beauty and touch her as he would have liked to. "And you, when I say I want you to get over your depressed widow phase, it is in truth partly because you're really attractive and I can't help but want to stick it in, but it's mostly because she's dead, and no matter what you do, you can't bring her back. Are you so desperate to have a dead lady cuddle you that you'd betray the only people you considered close apart from her?"
He stepped away from her and began waving his hands as if he were writing something in the air. "That's why I want you to write a letter to the Clanless. You say that you know him, eh? Then write him a letter saying that you need to speak with him in private...somewhere far, like the deadlands, right? Then, we'll let the Raven know that you've lured him there, and that this will be his only chance to kill him. We'll be there, and the Raven will confront him there. Makes sense so far?"
|
|
|
|
Post by Lukis "Drunkard" Vinterheim on Nov 24, 2014 19:02:56 GMT -6
"That doesn't make any sense," he murmured; he'd been sitting up against one of the barrels in the basement, only having woken up by the sound of Ibilin getting exactly what he deserved...probably. He was too sleepy to know why he was slapped.
But what he did hear of the warrior's plan was absolutely bananas, and went against everything it stood for. Ibilin didn't want to work for the Raven anymore, and wanted to betray him dispite the quite unpleasant consequences they'd been notified of, and yet part of this plan involved the Raven killing exactly who he wanted to kill. If anything, that was the perfect plan for remaining his faithful servant.
"Why would we want to kill that guy if that's who the Raven wants to kill?"
|
|
|
|
Post by Ibelin Dumont Baltonien on Nov 24, 2014 19:10:43 GMT -6
Gosh, sometimes the Nord just didn't think. Or perhaps Ibilin hadn't make his next statement implied enough. Still, he was going to have to explain this to his oaf of a friend.
"Except we're not going to let him get killed. Sarea's going to tell him everything that we know, and then the Raven will want to kill him. Know the Raven as well as I do, he'll be willing to beat Clanless in an unfair duel, so when they're fighting, we'll turn of the Raven. In all honesty, with our combined strength we can certainly fend him off for a bit until we can get out of there. That way, Clanless is saved, he can return to Wildgard with us, and he knows that not only is the Raven willing to go after him, but that he has friends who have knowledge."
There was still one thought lingering at the back of his mind, and that was of O'Donnel. Despite his dislike for the man's religion, the Minister himself was hardly a bad man. Old and weak, yet kind and charismatic, Ibilin knew that if they went against the Raven, the assassin would not only target them, but also O'Donnel; after all, it was him who'd employed them, and if the people he chose turned out to be traitors to 'Her', whoever the bloody hell that bitch was, the rogue wouldn't be very pleased. The Minister was an innocent man he wanted to keep alive.
"Then we help the Minister get out of here. We shave his beard, dye his hair blue, I don't know, but we make sure that he leaves safely before the Raven goes on a hunting spree." Then, with a shrug, he added: "Savvy?"
|
|
|
|
Post by Sarea Riel Dirao on Nov 24, 2014 19:18:57 GMT -6
The bard hung her head. Ibilin's plan was bang-on, and with the little exception of the fact that they were certainly going to be the Raven's number one targets, she know that it would be a success. Faljere would be alerted to the presence of the Raven and who he was working with, and he'd be able to actually figure out some way to work against him. With only doubts of what the Raven wanted and all of the lacking information that only she could give, Faljere was helpless.
That's why she hoped that her old friend and mentor would be willing to listen if she revealed herself as the one who assisted in Idina's murder, and who had brainwashed him into acting like the Raven for as long as she did. She knew that Faljere wasn't a grudging person, but if she truly had betrayed him that much...that was a Faljere she'd never met, and wished didn't exist.
But at the same time, she knew that even the monk that she knew would reproach her for her actions. She knew that he cared for her, and she knew that wanting Jennis back, although it was a dream of hers, was also a mistake on her part. Her heart was too full of their fondest memories, and she had no intention of emptying that part of her heart and opening it up for another. That was why she was in so much trouble right now, and that was what she regretted. Faljere would understand that, and although he would scold her, he would also comfort her.
She sighed. "Alright, I'll do it. I will write him a letter and I will figure out what I shall tell him. Is there anything else that you're missing from this plan?"
|
|
|
|
Post by Ibelin Dumont Baltonien on Nov 24, 2014 19:22:57 GMT -6
Surprised to see her agreeing with his plan, Ibilin shrugged. As of this point, he had no bloody clue if there was anything he was overlooking. Usually the Raven was the one who figured out the details of all of their conspiracies, and so to have to forge one on his own was like being asked to carve out part of a meteor, make a battle axe out of it, attach it to a catapult using only sticky paste, and then saying it was a flawless masterpiece.
But there was one man who, despite his idiocy, was a blinking genius, and that man was currently sitting against a barrel of alcohol, drinking a bottle of God knows what.
"You!" he called out. "You're a clever man, eh? You'll look over tour plan, and you'll make sure that we're all fine and dandy with this little escapade, right? No loopholes or problems or nothing."
|
|
|
|
Post by Lukis "Drunkard" Vinterheim on Nov 24, 2014 19:29:01 GMT -6
The Nord nodded and stood up in response to the Frenchman's words. "If that's how it'll be, that's how it'll be...I think."
He placed his bottle back in his bandolier and stretched his hands, hoping that they wouldn't crack like last time, because last time, a tiny spark shot out and nearly set the alcohol-soaked tavern aflame.
Perks of being a fire giant, so it seemed.
"We should leave, though, and come together again in a few days when Sarea's finished with the letter. That was, I'll get enough time to look the plan over and think of anything we might have missed. Then, we'll celebrate with drinks on me!"
He knew that was a lie. There was more than an absolutely positively no doubt chance that they wouldn't make it out of this plan alive, but he decided he'd keep the mood alight.
|
|
|
|
Post by Ibelin Dumont Baltonien on Nov 24, 2014 19:32:10 GMT -6
"Right! We'll drink to victory when we've beaten the Raven into the ground, right? And enough people will want to join us, I reckon." The warrior knew Lukis' tone of voice was just is drunken self covering up his sober self. They were going to die, and that was alright with him; he wasn't getting his wenches or gold anywhere but in Hell.
He snickered, a mental image appearing in his mind. "And when we do, we'll sit on thrones made of gold, surrounded by naked women who find our bravery astounding and arousing...God, what a life." Then, realizing who he was and who he was talking to, he coughed. "'Course, maybe that'll be just me."
|
|
|
|
Post by Sarea Riel Dirao on Nov 24, 2014 19:34:31 GMT -6
The bard found his statement almost comedic, despite its perverted undertones. She felt herself finding the mental image as well, however with only her atop the throne, with Ibilin nowhere in sight.
"I don't know," she teased, "maybe I'll be the one with the babes."
|
|
|
|
Post by Ibelin Dumont Baltonien on Nov 24, 2014 19:37:58 GMT -6
"Oh, is that right?" he snarled with a sneer. "I count fifty-four."
Sure, the first five were when he was only starting and lasting about two minutes. The next bunch were mostly girls he regretted ever knowing, including a dwarven lass who he was completely willing to look past the beard for were it not for her similarly hairy chest.
Oh, the memories he wished he could smack away.
Fifty-four was the closest he ever had to a true relationship, and when she made him feel too soft after they lived together for three months almost like a normal couple, he stole her horse in the middle of the night and left. Since then, fifty-five was the one he searched for in hoped of regaining that manhood; however, he felt as though he wasn't trying hard enough, or maybe too hard. Or maybe he didn't want a number fifty-five. Maybe he wanted fifty-four back.
Of course, he wouldn't let that show, so he snickered and placed his hands on his hips as he looked at Sarea cheekily. "How many do you count?"
|
|
|
|
Post by Sarea Riel Dirao on Nov 24, 2014 19:40:56 GMT -6
"One," she said simply, before adding with a coy smirk: "But I kept her pleased well enough for her to stay."
She chuckled to herself; this was the first time she'd interacted with Ibilin as a human being, and sure, his personality was still gross, but she felt as though they were on equal ground. Companions, almost. Companions in the end.
She grabbed his knuckle with her hand, brought it up to her lips, and gave it a soft kiss like she would do if she played her flute. There were no words to say, but perhaps this action was enough to speak for itself.
Looking over at Lukis, she smiled gently. "And you, Lukis, your happiness is contagious. A bit quirky, yes, but pure and great. Might I say that it has helped me keep less solemn in these dark days? The bards of the future will sing og your jolly."
And the bard would remain silent in the tale of Sarea Riel Dirao.
|
|
|
|
Post by Lukis "Drunkard" Vinterheim on Nov 24, 2014 19:43:17 GMT -6
The Nord rushed forwards and jumped onto the small elf, embracing her as he would anyone else: a hug full of love and armpit.
When he retracted, he patter her shoulders with his large hands and grinned a toothy, dumb grin. "Maybe one of those song'll come from you, yah? I'd love to hear the 'Tale of Lukis the Drunkard' from you!"
|
|
