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R.I.P. neildarkstar. Haven will miss you dearly.
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| The Breton; Not just another pretty face | |
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| Topic Started: Mar 23 2018, 06:23 AM (110 Views) | |
| neildarkstar | Mar 23 2018, 06:23 AM Post #1 |
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Overlord
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The Breton Ellyn Ridley Trying to move without making any sound, The Breton walked backwards through Ship's Storage with the small keg tucked under her arm. In the other hand she held a dim lantern that made the shadows flicker and jump like creatures ready to spring from the nearby darkness. She was so tired, having spent the last three days with little or no sleep... Softly, she whispered to herself as she splashed the contents of the keg on the floor and on the barrels stowed in the forward compartment. "Three days? Only three days?" Giddy with exhaustion, she knew she had to be careful or she'd break out in hysterical laughter. Her thoughts fluttered through her mind like dry autumn leaves as they took her back to the moment three days ago when she had found Artur in this very hold. It wasn't an accident that she'd found him... no, she'd searched the entire vessel for him. This storage hold was the last place she'd had in mind to check because Arty was afraid of this hold... afraid of the dark, the deep shadows hiding behind barrels, drums and crates. He'd had nightmares nearly every night of late, and when she tried to comfort him, he told her he'd been having nightmares of being trapped in this storage hold. He dreamed of being caught under the netting that held everything in place, while some dark and ancient creature drained the life from his body. The Breton, being the only Breton and the only female in an otherwise all-Nord crew had almost forgotten she had another name. While she was technically an officer aboard this ship, she rarely got the respect she knew she should have received. So it was that when the Captain's cabin boy had nightmares, the call went out to "fetch The Breton" and when that same cabin boy went missing for a few hours, the Captain yelled to his mate to "Send The Breton to find that little bastard!" The Breton was never called by her given name, or by her rank as were others aboard, oh no. She was always "The Breton" and her time was apparently worth less than anyone else's (funny, it was odd to her but she by now often thought of herself as "The Breton" having been called by that name for so long). As she'd been searching in here for the boy, she'd heard the child's pure clear voice humming some sort of tune that seemed to feature her name. That quiet song had led to a cargo net where a smallish foot lay protruding into the walkway. The child's voice came through clearly from farther under the net. "Breton Ridley, You still walk the embattled Skyrim of my mind..." Expecting at least a yell of surprise, she'd reached down, taken hold of that foot, and pulled the boy out from under the net. Instead of a yell, the song stopped instantly, and all was silent. She'd had a lantern with her that time too, and turned up bright it showed the boy's face pale and cold. Immobile, without any sign of life, and imbued with a ghastly gray sheen she was instantly certain the boy was dead. The Breton was small in size herself, but the cabin boy seemed nearly weightless as she hoisted him up and carried him above to the weather deck. Once she was topside, she laid the boy carefully on a sail that had been laid out for mending, and called for Captain Gunnar. As he came and knelt by the boy's body, the concern on the Captain's face was clearly visible. Slowly, he reached out a hand to stroke the boy's forehead then cursed and jumped back as suddenly the boy's eyes flew open. His normally blue eyes seemed smoky or hazy, with pupils hugely dilated, and those eyes accentuated the appearance of death in the boy's face. With a snarl, his head snapped around, his sharp teeth clamping down on the Captain's hand and wrist. Blood flowed freely from the wounded hand into the boy's mouth and he emitted a horrible sucking sound while The Breton and the first mate worked to free the bleeding hand. Thinking quickly, the mate grabbed a nearby belaying pin, and hammered the boy's jaw to a ruin before the teeth finally released the Captain. Arty began to laugh through his broken and bloody jaw in a most bizarre fashion, then his eyes rolled up in his head, and he moved no more. The Breton was shocked by the damage that had been done to the Captain. Blood was pouring out of the hand and wrist in spurts, and tatters of flesh hung loosely from the arm. They quickly tied off the arm, but judging from the pale look of the Captain's face, he was going into shock... still, they were amazed when he died a few hours later. His wounds had not seemed to them to be so... lethal. They took the bodies of the boy and his captain back to the storage hold, and laid them side by side beneath a cargo net. The next day, the bodies were gone, and only the bloodstained sail proved that they had ever existed. Edited by neildarkstar, Mar 23 2018, 06:29 AM.
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| Areial | Mar 23 2018, 06:38 AM Post #2 |
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Et'Ada
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Very nice read....intriguing! |
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| Serethil | Mar 23 2018, 09:07 AM Post #3 |
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Et'Ada
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Well. That was - shuddery. Reminds me of The Carkers; They Bite by Anthony Boucher. Apparently her next action is to set the ship on fire? Interesting start, anyway! |
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| neildarkstar | Mar 23 2018, 09:17 AM Post #4 |
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Overlord
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Thanks gals! Chapter 2 should be up later today or tomorrow. After that, well... we'll see how it goes. :) |
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| neildarkstar | Mar 23 2018, 12:40 PM Post #5 |
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Overlord
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The Breton Part 2 The Next Day The Sovengarde Maiden was a smallish vessel, that in the best of times carried a crew of fourteen or fifteen. With the civil war raging, that number had been reduced to half of that, and an accident at sea had further reduced the number to five (not including the cabin boy). What this meant in reality was that the ship could not be properly sailed. On the bright side, once under way, a very small crew could manage... and in fact would now have to. With that in mind, Acting Captain Jorn had his work cut out for him without such things as missing bodies complicating his life. If his concerns showed though, it probably just made him a bit more livid as he addressed the crew after discovering the missing Captain and his cabin boy. Jorn was personally convinced the crew had thrown them overboard out of superstitious fear... a sentiment he privately echoed to some degree. Still, protocol had to be observed, so he cursed the crew resoundingly, then ordered a full search of the ship for the missing bodies. His last words in that address stayed in everybody's mind for the rest of the voyage. "I want those bodies placed in irons and tossed overboard immediately! If they are going to follow us, let them do so on foot walking along the bottom of the sea!" Once the crew had been dismissed, he went into his new cabin to try to solve the other half of his problem... That is, he had an immediate need to teach himself to navigate. During the time after the Captain had been injured, Jorn had asked some oblique questions and discovered that nobody aboard (other than himself) had any navigational skills at all. His own skills were rudimentary at best, and really boiled down to dead reckoning with a compass. They couldn't get lost as long as they kept the shoreline in sight, but dark of night or a heavy fog could mean real trouble. He thought they were only a day or two from Solitude, but he really had no way to be certain. Meanwhile, the rest of the crew was engaged for a time in the search, but unsurprisingly, found nothing. The day passed, and the dark of night settled in with no further developments. With the coming of night, the tiny crew slept in four hour increments after a meal of dried meat and apples that had been a part of their cargo. Nobody had the spare time to cook anything because each was already doing the jobs of two or three men. The midnight watch fell to Jorn and Halvard, a seaman of little experience. The Acting Captain thought that with his guidance, all would be well. He could man the helm, then lock it down and he and Halvard could then handle the sheets. After all, in the dark of night they would only hoist enough sail to maintain steerage. At 4am The Breton and Knud came topside to stand their watch, and Jorn and Halvard wearily found their way to their beds. Jorn entered the dim light of the Captain's cabin, and placed his weapons on the chart table that was the central piece of furniture in the room. Without actually thinking of it, he noticed the slight roll would have sent the items to floor had it not been for the tiny rail around the edge of the table. He knew the roll was caused by short sail and a slight change in the wind. Heaving a sigh, he sat in the Captain's chair and pulled off his boots before heading to bed. As Jorn was crawling into the Captain's bunk (still fully dressed other than boots), he could have sworn he caught the scent of lavender. He turned his head to seek the source in the very dim light of the cabin, and was amazed to see eyes glowing redly in the darkness near his bunk. He would have screamed, but really... he just didn't have time... The Third Day Dawn broke with a beautiful red sky that caused alarm for The Breton and her more experienced subordinate. With a short crew, an oncoming storm would mean a disaster and this sky was a warning that should not be ignored. Even worse, neither Jorn nor Halvard showed to relieve them for the 8am watch. The Breton needed to remain at the helm, so Knud headed down alone to rouse his crewmates. With short sail, the vessel had a less pronounced pitch, but picked up a slight roll that sent anything loose tumbling to port and starboard in turn. Because of that slight roll, Knud heard the banging of the door to the Captain's cabin before he actually arrived. "Captain?" Knud caught the door and was paused to knock when it occurred to him how ludicrous that would be given that the door had apparently been banging back and forth for some time. He peered warily into the dim cabin and again called out. "Jorn! Wake up and greet a red sky, Captain." A moment, then two he waited listening for a reply. The only response was the creak of a load-bearing line somewhere inside the cabin, and Knud was truly spooked as he stepped inside the small room. Noting that the interior lantern had been extinguished, he moved slowly toward the bunk, but stopped cold as he saw something moving in the general darkness. Looking closer, he saw Jorn had been stripped of his clothes, and his dead body hung by the ankles from a lantern hook. The deck beneath him was slick with blood that oozed in small rivers from port to starboard and back again with the roll of the ship as the body swung in time just above like the pndulum of a grandfather clock. Knud was not a coward, but an inarticulate scream was torn from his throat, as he turned to run from that chamber of horrors. So panicked was he that he only barely in the back of his mind, recognized the scent of lavender from nearby. In the very doorway to escape, strong fingers with nails like claws or talons reached out to grab him. In a second his right arm was torn from his body, and though he screamed for a second or two, the sound was cut short when those same claws tore out his throat. At the helm and only a few feet from Knud at the moment of his death, The Breton heard his final screams. She knew that whatever was aboard this ship was no natural enemy, so she silently locked the helm and slipped below. Her eyes adjusted to the light belowdeck, and after a moment she heard movement from farther down the corridor. Something with long sharp claws on its toes was shuffling along towards her. Slinking into a hidey hole behind a barrel, she saw a dim outline of some monstrous figure moving along towards her. She could hear its snuffling breath, and see the partially outstretched wings on its shoulders. Like Knud, The Breton was no coward, but she froze there partially hidden behind a barrel and up against the bulkhead. Unable to move, she stared in fascination as the thing neared her position. It was tall and heavy, built like a fat man with muscular arms and legs, and two leathery wings that had to be partially folded to allow it to move in the narrow hallway. Closer, closer, it came until she was certain it must have seen her, but then a throaty, whispery voice called out to it from within the Captain's cabin. The monster hesitated, looked once more in The Breton's direction, then turned and shambled back to the person or thing that must have been its master. Her terror abating slightly, The Breton passed down into the storage deck, where she found a small keg of lantern fuel and a functional lantern. her senses were on full alert, so a slight sound from the other side of the hold caught her attention. Peeking warily between some crates, she saw the bodies of the Captain and the cabin boy and they appeared to be feeding on... Oh Gods! They were feeding on Halvard! Trying to move without making any sound, The Breton walked backwards through Ship's Storage with the small keg tucked under her arm, splashing the contents on the deck and the cargo that was stacked on it. Coming to the forward hatch, she climbed up as far as she could before dropping the lantern into the oil below. For a moment, she thought she had made a grave error, because the flame within seemed to be quenched by the oil before the oil finally lit and the flames began to spread. She climbed up through the hatch, dogging it behind her, and ran to the stern where the ship's longboat was mounted on a hoist. No time to lower it carefully, she released the winch without engaging the brake, and the longboat dropped to the water below with a splash. Quickly, she climbed to the rail, and just as she jumped she heard a monstrous roar and a scream of rage from nearby. Hitting the water was a bit like landing on concrete, and the breath was knocked out of her as she sank deep into the chill waters not far from the lighthouse of Solitude. Though it was difficult, she made her way back to the surface, and after a short swim climbed into the longboat. The current was slowly carrying the longboat toward the shore, and The Breton lay back across the bench seats and let nature take its course. As she lay there looking up into a sky that held the promise of an approaching storm, she could have sworn that she smelled the scent of nearby lavender... |
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| Serethil | Mar 23 2018, 01:57 PM Post #6 |
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Et'Ada
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Whoa. Great read, neil! More please! |
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| Richard | Mar 23 2018, 02:56 PM Post #7 |
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Thane
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Damn, I'm really liking it, Neil! Keep them coming. |
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| Areial | Mar 23 2018, 07:35 PM Post #8 |
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Et'Ada
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:clap: :clap: Awesome... Love it!! |
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| Serethil | Mar 23 2018, 07:52 PM Post #9 |
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Et'Ada
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Ah. I finally remembered what ELSE this rather reminds me of (in that shuddery way....): Relic by Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child
Edited by Serethil, Mar 23 2018, 07:52 PM.
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| Lapuaboy | Mar 23 2018, 08:04 PM Post #10 |
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Thane
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That was really good! Wow :clap: |
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| Serethil | Mar 23 2018, 08:12 PM Post #11 |
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Et'Ada
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But.... why lavender....? |
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| Areial | Mar 23 2018, 08:19 PM Post #12 |
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Et'Ada
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Lavender and Rose are both "old fashion" scents?? |
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| Serethil | Mar 23 2018, 08:21 PM Post #13 |
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Et'Ada
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Well, yes.... but I have the feeling this is more about the vampirism.... |
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| Areial | Mar 23 2018, 08:39 PM Post #14 |
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Et'Ada
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probably |
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| neildarkstar | Mar 23 2018, 09:00 PM Post #15 |
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Overlord
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:D Thanks all! I had been a little concerned that the flow of the story would be... less than optimal, it gave me trouble don't ya know... |
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| Serethil | Mar 23 2018, 09:16 PM Post #16 |
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Et'Ada
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Well, it works for me. I like it, no problem following! |
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| neildarkstar | Mar 25 2018, 09:27 PM Post #17 |
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Overlord
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The Lore of Lamaette Lamaette was the daughter of a royal member of the Clan Direnni and a Nede slave, and is therefor a Breton by birthright. Infected with vampirism sometime during the First Era, she eventually traveled to Coldharbour where she participated in the Rite of the Scion. Visions granted to her during the Rite were so strong that legend claims she may actually be an incarnation of Lamae Bal. Descriptions of the rite indicate that normally Lemae Bal appears and gives her own blood to worthy candidates, thus admitting them into her cult. With Lamaette things went differently. She was not restored at the end of the rite, so it was thought that the rite had failed, and a funeral was therefore planned. Since lamaette was of Royal blood, special floral arrangements were made for the occasion. With Purple being the acknowledged color of royalty, and Lavendar being prized as a scent used to dispel the odors generated by the dead, it was natural that huge bouquets of lavendar were gathered around the corpse, and the body cavities were packed with sachets of lavendar. While the legends differ, the predominate legends among priests of Lamae Bal say that at the moment when the body was to be cremated, lamae Bal restored the vampire lamaette to her undead life. Furious on awakening to discover that the priests had been about to cremate her, Lamaette flew into a rage and eviscerated all of the priests who had participated in the Rite of the Scion and in the arrangements for cremation. Oddly, that scenario somewhat echoes the events surrounding Lamae Bal's resurrection. Truthfully, much of this is conjecture with the facts lost to time, but one thing is certain... If lamaette still walks the earth, she is one of the oldest and most powerful vampires ever to exist. |
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| Serethil | Mar 25 2018, 09:37 PM Post #18 |
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Et'Ada
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Oh, thanks for that! I hadn't ever read much about all that, so the lavender was a bit confusing. |
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| neildarkstar | Mar 25 2018, 09:42 PM Post #19 |
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Overlord
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lamaette and events pertaining to her are my own creation, however the Rite of the Scion and Lamae Bal are in Beth's lore. If you're interested, there is more here. |
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| Serethil | Mar 25 2018, 09:49 PM Post #20 |
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Et'Ada
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I've run across the book Opusculus Lamae Bal - but never read it I think.... I'm - not - really into vampires. I'd never seen that page before either.... |
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