Vertigo — Roleplayer Guild

R Y L A N   T W Y F O R D 

Durand Aviary
Night
Interacting with @ambra, @vietmyke

Rylan's escape was cut tragically short. He had managed to take no more than ten or so steps, each small and careful, before the crossbow-wielding man spoke. His words were fact as much as they were a threat, and Rylan found little choice but to stop where he stood. Ever so slowly, he straightened his back now that a hunch no longer held any merit, and brought his hands to where the other could see them.

He frowned. Had he not been unable to pry his gaze from the bolt pointed at him, he would've fixed Tristan with a glare. Some lord the guy was. He wasn't even noteworthy enough to work as a distraction for two whole minutes. Rylan swore, if he died here tonight, he would come back as a ghost and see to it that one Tristan Baske never slept another eyeful again. 

Then came the crossbowman's next string of words, and Rylan quickly found his attention returned to where it was due; keeping himself in one piece if at all possible. He liked his hands intact, and the stryxes' beaks where they were - far from him.

"If I may, I would like to suggest a third optio-" he begun, but didn't quite get to finish before Emil addressed the lordling once more. Just as well, at least it bought him more time to think of a way out. A way other than a stryx's digestive system.

Rylan had not gotten too far before the lordling spoke - and the thief nearly choked on a dry snort. W-what was that just now? The bastard wanted to play a hero and venture north to die a dog's death? And he actually expected to find company on his little trip? 

A smarter man would've stayed his tongue in the face of a madman's drivel, but Rylan was half-mad with bafflement, fear and anger himself. 

"Ohh, so that is why you sneaked in here in the dead of the night to rile the stryxes," every word was laced with mockery and bitterness, and Rylan tried to hide none of it. Had this absolute loon not perturbed the styxes and lured Greytail out of its den, he would still be sleeping the night away in the safety of the stable. "You wanted like-minded company on your little suicide quest. Now, I do beg pardon my lord, but I doubt even the stryxes are bird-brained enough for your needs. Perhaps a dead pigeon would be closer to milord's level of intellect. Have you tried consulting them?"

Wonderful. Just... wonderful, truly. He was about to lose limbs - or potentially his life - because of some drunken fool's lunacy.

Perhaps he should've just kept trying to run and gotten a bolt to his back. At least then he'd been too busy bleeding to death to hear the reason why it all happened.
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