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Damn. Grey's sharper than Althalus thought. >_>
Emma
It took another three hours. But it paid off. The door opened as she was begin to bring her hand down for another knock. This time it wasn’t the man who had hit her. It was a harried elderly man, handing her a sealed envelope and a map. “Enough. Take the envelope to the SOHNS headquarters. Give this to any hunter there and they should take you to someone who will test you to see if you’re competent enough to even begin training. That’s all I can promise you. Now, please, leave and never bother us again.” The door closed in her face before she could even say ‘took you stubborn bastards long enough’. Shrugging, Emma turned away from the door, examining the map (thankfully her mother had insisted she learn to read, and her father that she learned to read a map.). SOHNS headquarters seemed to be a couple of days travel from here. Emma began heading in that direction immediately, putting both the map and the envelope into her pocket. She didn’t have any money to buy supplies, and figured it would best just to get it over with as quickly as possible. Maybe they would give her some food there when she arrived, though she doubted it. If the reception she received here was bad, she almost shuddered to think what it would be like when she got to the headquarters.
Trudging through the town, she knew people were glad to see her leave. She was a freak. Someone to make sure that their daughters stayed away from, lest they get into their heads whatever had gotten into her head. A woman dressing as a man and carrying weaponry. Scandalous, certainly. Insulting, likely. At least, that’s what she had gotten from people’s reactions to her. Some were polite enough to thinly veil their contempt and disgust. Others were not. But she didn’t care. Caring about what the rest of the world thought stopped when her parents died, her home was destroyed, and her sister missing. There was nothing left in this world but to find her. What happened after that would sort itself out in due time. So Emma ignored the relieved looks people exchanged as she headed out of the town, and the calls from some of the other townsfolk at her back. She just kept moving, one foot in front of the other, too her destination. Another stop before her goal.
It took another three hours. But it paid off. The door opened as she was begin to bring her hand down for another knock. This time it wasn’t the man who had hit her. It was a harried elderly man, handing her a sealed envelope and a map. “Enough. Take the envelope to the SOHNS headquarters. Give this to any hunter there and they should take you to someone who will test you to see if you’re competent enough to even begin training. That’s all I can promise you. Now, please, leave and never bother us again.” The door closed in her face before she could even say ‘took you stubborn bastards long enough’. Shrugging, Emma turned away from the door, examining the map (thankfully her mother had insisted she learn to read, and her father that she learned to read a map.). SOHNS headquarters seemed to be a couple of days travel from here. Emma began heading in that direction immediately, putting both the map and the envelope into her pocket. She didn’t have any money to buy supplies, and figured it would best just to get it over with as quickly as possible. Maybe they would give her some food there when she arrived, though she doubted it. If the reception she received here was bad, she almost shuddered to think what it would be like when she got to the headquarters.
Trudging through the town, she knew people were glad to see her leave. She was a freak. Someone to make sure that their daughters stayed away from, lest they get into their heads whatever had gotten into her head. A woman dressing as a man and carrying weaponry. Scandalous, certainly. Insulting, likely. At least, that’s what she had gotten from people’s reactions to her. Some were polite enough to thinly veil their contempt and disgust. Others were not. But she didn’t care. Caring about what the rest of the world thought stopped when her parents died, her home was destroyed, and her sister missing. There was nothing left in this world but to find her. What happened after that would sort itself out in due time. So Emma ignored the relieved looks people exchanged as she headed out of the town, and the calls from some of the other townsfolk at her back. She just kept moving, one foot in front of the other, too her destination. Another stop before her goal.
>_>
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>_>
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I fail to understand why.
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>_>
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I fail to understand why.
Frankly, I just like villains with controlled insanity. The Joker, Kimble from FMA: Brotherhood, Loki, Azula, Saren from ME, Meredith from DA: 2, Durza from Eragon (The book.), and Amon. They're all varying degrees of insane, they all have a variety of reasons for what they do, amd they all control their insanity to a point. I just like a villain like that. Clearly insane, but in control enough to go through with their plans.
More sass tomorrow? More sass tomorrow.
Now imagine all of those, except for the last one, added together and then multiplied by 20. That's how powerful Mary's puppy dog eyes are.
EDIT: Damn you got rid of them imagine this one multiplied by 200.
EDIT: Damn you got rid of them imagine this one multiplied by 200.
yoshua171 said Cue Lazarus melting before her power.
He cannot resist the puppy dog eyes!
Haven't actually watched any season beyond season 1 of Korra. Every season with Aang, of course, but nothing after season 1 of Korra.
Althalus
As the guardsman arrived, Althalus was feeling better about the venture. People tended to immediately go for the biggest, most armored, toughest looking opponent. Grey fit at least one requirement. Which meant that more people would be going for him, and that would allow the assassin to get a free shot at someone’s back. And it was always better to kill a mage from behind, where they couldn’t see you, than the front, where they tended to throw most of their nasty little spells. As the man tripped and fell, spilling papers everywhere and asking for help, Althalus shrugged. Why not? It’s not like he had anything better to do. Setting his crossbow down on the wagon bed, he chased down the farthest reaching ones, coming up with a handful. He waved back at Coco before glancing down at the wanted posters. As he returned to Grey, Althalus exclaimed, “Hey! I know these guys! They’re the Arson brothers. Nice bunch of kids. Tend to have a penchant for burning things, which is why they changed their last name to Arson, but they’re nice. Though, you have each of them as different people on five different wanted posters.” Riffling through the remaining papers, he commented on them. “Ah, No-Finger Pete. Surprisingly good with a knife. I know for a fact that Billy here is dead, and has been for several years now, and yet they persist on posting wanted posters for him. He’s probably laughing himself silly in whatever dark pit he was thrown in. Hey, it’s Sally! What a little hellion. Castrated a man with her teeth once. Shame she decided to try and travel to Ghannos. Reverend Parker! Revered servant of Aarem and master torturer. He also makes a very good rat stew.”
Glancing up as he gave the papers back to Grey, Althalus shrugged. “What? I grew up in Port Slaughter. Everyone there is a criminal, it’s just a matter of if you are a legal criminal. The nobles abuse their power and protect and pay the guards, the guards abuse their power and ensure that the peasants pay their taxes and don’t kill the nobles in a violent uprising, and the peasants do the best they can, committing a variety of crimes in the name of survival. Or, in the case of some, just because they find it ridiculously fun.” He caught a glimpse of the last poster and barely kept himself from grinning. It was a drawing of his mask. Well, not exactly his mask. There were a few minor differences, but the essence of it was the same. This is going to be fun. “I’d be careful if you started going for that one.” He said, tapping a finger on the poster. “Even when I was in Port Slaughter he was well known. ‘The Terror of the Port’ they called him. About as solid as smoke, they claimed. They claimed he was as ruthless as the nobles, but with the martial skill of the guards and the subtlety skill of the thieves. Any death that went unexplained was placed at his feet. They claim he left a calling card at the site of each death, a gold coin, caked with blood.” Then Althalus shrugged again. “Then again, they also claimed he was so handsome that the Baroness fell in love with him, that the Baron’s children are actually ‘The Terror of the Port’s children, that he has the stamina of not one, but three gods, and that he was so silver tongued that a guardswoman once gave him her armor, her weaponry, and her maidenhood, all because he asked.” He gave a smirk. “Obviously, the tale has grown with the telling. I doubt that he actually exists.”
As the guardsman arrived, Althalus was feeling better about the venture. People tended to immediately go for the biggest, most armored, toughest looking opponent. Grey fit at least one requirement. Which meant that more people would be going for him, and that would allow the assassin to get a free shot at someone’s back. And it was always better to kill a mage from behind, where they couldn’t see you, than the front, where they tended to throw most of their nasty little spells. As the man tripped and fell, spilling papers everywhere and asking for help, Althalus shrugged. Why not? It’s not like he had anything better to do. Setting his crossbow down on the wagon bed, he chased down the farthest reaching ones, coming up with a handful. He waved back at Coco before glancing down at the wanted posters. As he returned to Grey, Althalus exclaimed, “Hey! I know these guys! They’re the Arson brothers. Nice bunch of kids. Tend to have a penchant for burning things, which is why they changed their last name to Arson, but they’re nice. Though, you have each of them as different people on five different wanted posters.” Riffling through the remaining papers, he commented on them. “Ah, No-Finger Pete. Surprisingly good with a knife. I know for a fact that Billy here is dead, and has been for several years now, and yet they persist on posting wanted posters for him. He’s probably laughing himself silly in whatever dark pit he was thrown in. Hey, it’s Sally! What a little hellion. Castrated a man with her teeth once. Shame she decided to try and travel to Ghannos. Reverend Parker! Revered servant of Aarem and master torturer. He also makes a very good rat stew.”
Glancing up as he gave the papers back to Grey, Althalus shrugged. “What? I grew up in Port Slaughter. Everyone there is a criminal, it’s just a matter of if you are a legal criminal. The nobles abuse their power and protect and pay the guards, the guards abuse their power and ensure that the peasants pay their taxes and don’t kill the nobles in a violent uprising, and the peasants do the best they can, committing a variety of crimes in the name of survival. Or, in the case of some, just because they find it ridiculously fun.” He caught a glimpse of the last poster and barely kept himself from grinning. It was a drawing of his mask. Well, not exactly his mask. There were a few minor differences, but the essence of it was the same. This is going to be fun. “I’d be careful if you started going for that one.” He said, tapping a finger on the poster. “Even when I was in Port Slaughter he was well known. ‘The Terror of the Port’ they called him. About as solid as smoke, they claimed. They claimed he was as ruthless as the nobles, but with the martial skill of the guards and the subtlety skill of the thieves. Any death that went unexplained was placed at his feet. They claim he left a calling card at the site of each death, a gold coin, caked with blood.” Then Althalus shrugged again. “Then again, they also claimed he was so handsome that the Baroness fell in love with him, that the Baron’s children are actually ‘The Terror of the Port’s children, that he has the stamina of not one, but three gods, and that he was so silver tongued that a guardswoman once gave him her armor, her weaponry, and her maidenhood, all because he asked.” He gave a smirk. “Obviously, the tale has grown with the telling. I doubt that he actually exists.”
Well. Dirae is a nice mixture of relived and terrified.
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