He had tied the rope to a hook in the ceiling quite easily, just a long stick with a holder held it as he attached the rope in front of the mill. Breathing rather slowly the small Halfling just simply sits and thinks quietly to himself. He thought it would have become a lot more clear and easy as he tied the noose into the rope. Gods know he had been thinking about this for long enough. But no, silently he just sat there, battling his own mind over and over again, as if his thoughts themselves were like daggers, slicing through his heart and soul.
Sighing quietly, he uses the stick to bring the rope down before going outside to the depot outside of the Mill in Northbridge, carefully putting the hangman's knot away for now. He goes back into the Mill before pulling out a mirror, for a few hours he practices a smile so wide and large, no one could possibly notice anything wrong.
Hellbriar, no one had so far.
(( Just to point out everything - if not said otherwise - of mine in the RP section is open to all and anyone willing to write something out : ) ))
Silent thoughts and deadly trots.
Moderator: Gamemasters
Re: Silent thoughts and deadly trots.
A light flashes from a small window, illuminating a few inches outside the small square mill. Nestled inside the small building sits a small Halfling, using a bed of hay upon the floor as a seat and the cold, hard wall as a rest for his back. He seems to be writing, using a the source of light - a candle sitting on the dusty mill - for this purpose. He sits there for a number of hours, sometimes sitting motionless for an hour at a time before continuing. A few more hours pass before he slips the parchment into his pocket then pulls out a familiar looking piece of rope. He slowly unties the knot out of it, letting it run between his hands before he begins to replace the noose once more.
He does this countless times before he hears a bang outside then some chatter. Muttering to himself he hides away the rope, taking the knot out before stepping outside, drifting aimlessly towards the town.
He does this countless times before he hears a bang outside then some chatter. Muttering to himself he hides away the rope, taking the knot out before stepping outside, drifting aimlessly towards the town.
Re: Silent thoughts and deadly trots.
No longer having the responsibility of Magistrate was somewhat of a relief to Kyre. Now she could concentrate on her studies totally, come and go as she pleased and not worry about halflings painting buildings or robberies or...wait, was that the halfling?
Dark eyes light on the view through a small window of the "building painter" making something with a rope. Unsure exactly what it was and her curiousity piqued, Kyre held out her hand and spoke softly as she floated up to the branch of a near tree preparing to observe him longer until a loud noise behind her seemed to interrupt him. Making no effort to see who made the noise, knowing she was fairly well hidden in the branches, Kyre watches Jimmy make his preparations then amble toward town yet her gaze turns back to the building...why would he hide that rope?
Dark eyes light on the view through a small window of the "building painter" making something with a rope. Unsure exactly what it was and her curiousity piqued, Kyre held out her hand and spoke softly as she floated up to the branch of a near tree preparing to observe him longer until a loud noise behind her seemed to interrupt him. Making no effort to see who made the noise, knowing she was fairly well hidden in the branches, Kyre watches Jimmy make his preparations then amble toward town yet her gaze turns back to the building...why would he hide that rope?
Re: Silent thoughts and deadly trots.
He placed the rope in front of the Mill, hanging in front but above. The noose perfectly made, practice is perfection he thought. With that, his head leans forward as he slips it past into the suffocating circularly shape. He stands there for a moment eyes closed, perhaps shaking but he ignores that. He lifts his hands up, tightening the knot around his neck:
" Thank Nargun 'm a light bugger. "
The Halfling simply laughs to himself, obviously trying not too focus on what he is actually doing. He sighs as his laughter fades like a candles last light, his breath going even for a moment. He raises one foot:
" Here goes. "
He moves forward then snap! The rope tightens around the Halflings neck, panic settles in as his body flails about against his minds order to remain calm. His neck obviously didn't break as he hoped, but he was left to a slow fate. After a moment that lasted only a mere ten seconds he loses consciousness, another moment that consisted of around five seconds passes then something unexpected happens.
The hook which held the rope falls from the strain of the weight, sending the Halfling crashing down to the ground. With that, the Halfling simply lays on the ground in a heap, the noose still rapped around his neck and himself not moving. He might twitch, though that could simply be the darkness playing a trick on someone eyes.
" Thank Nargun 'm a light bugger. "
The Halfling simply laughs to himself, obviously trying not too focus on what he is actually doing. He sighs as his laughter fades like a candles last light, his breath going even for a moment. He raises one foot:
" Here goes. "
He moves forward then snap! The rope tightens around the Halflings neck, panic settles in as his body flails about against his minds order to remain calm. His neck obviously didn't break as he hoped, but he was left to a slow fate. After a moment that lasted only a mere ten seconds he loses consciousness, another moment that consisted of around five seconds passes then something unexpected happens.
The hook which held the rope falls from the strain of the weight, sending the Halfling crashing down to the ground. With that, the Halfling simply lays on the ground in a heap, the noose still rapped around his neck and himself not moving. He might twitch, though that could simply be the darkness playing a trick on someone eyes.
Re: Silent thoughts and deadly trots.
Not understanding why the halfling decided to use the rope on himself, Kyre waits mere seconds though may seem forever to the halfling before her hand raises and ancient words are heard...suddenly the hook opens as she grins whispering...
Perhaps Nargun wanted you hafling, but I didn't see any raven so we will hope neither of us is in trouble.
..the same time arrriving next to him with only a few leaves disturbed in her wake. Kneeling, Kyre inserts a dagger between neck and rope allowing the cut edges to fall at his side before standing and holding her hand up while healing rays rain down aimed at his still form. Not waiting, Kyre begins to speak.
If you wish to see Nargun, I can help later. In the mean time, I am curious about your actions.
Perhaps Nargun wanted you hafling, but I didn't see any raven so we will hope neither of us is in trouble.
..the same time arrriving next to him with only a few leaves disturbed in her wake. Kneeling, Kyre inserts a dagger between neck and rope allowing the cut edges to fall at his side before standing and holding her hand up while healing rays rain down aimed at his still form. Not waiting, Kyre begins to speak.
If you wish to see Nargun, I can help later. In the mean time, I am curious about your actions.
Re: Silent thoughts and deadly trots.
A few moments pass before the Halfling stirs as air slowly returns to his lungs. With a few more seconds passing, the Halfling's eyes squeeze open -perhaps looking slightly dazed considering the circumstances - at which point he bursts out in a coughing fit. After yet a few more moments wasted coughing, he pulls himself up into a sitting position.
The small person starts to speak, with a slightly horsed voice as one could guess:
" Mhmm, one could say tha' same in my sho... *looks down at his bare feet*... Uhh, I mean my skin... "
The small person starts to speak, with a slightly horsed voice as one could guess:
" Mhmm, one could say tha' same in my sho... *looks down at his bare feet*... Uhh, I mean my skin... "
Re: Silent thoughts and deadly trots.
Kyre sits on the floor of the small cabin talking to the halfling a long time becoming sure he would be a good one for her plans before trying to convince him to at least delay his. Some things were quietly whispered that she would keep to herself yet why did this halfling, short, bare feet so totally unlike her race seem to think and understand things most wouldn't...Nargun was definitely close to him also. Interrupted by a human named Altrix and a lizard, Kyre floated up to the tree disappearing in the dark calling back to Seredoc..
It is your turn to answer a question...next time.
It is your turn to answer a question...next time.
Re: Silent thoughts and deadly trots.
Visit the Northern land, get some logs to work was the idea. How the Halfling ended up between a bunch of Orge Warriors and shamans he'll never truly understand. Forgetting, somehow, that he was just in a thin layer of clothe, the Halfling dived into a brawling state of mind, smashing one of the Orge's down in a matter of seconds ( it helps when you're lower down, if you get the hint ). Then, out of nowhere he received a smash to the right side of his face, the blow came from a huge Orge with a rather nasty looking blunt club.
The blow sent the Halfling flying back slightly, the brute force over powering the little persons agility. Nevertheless, the Halfling quickly returned to his to feet simply to receive a second powerful, skull crushing blow. This time the force burst open his right check, apparently the blunt trauma being too much for the Halfling's body. At the same time, a smaller Orge smashed the left side of his face, turning the skin a sicken black. All the while, smaller Orges' were tearing into the Halfling's chest, leaving cuts here, there and everywhere. Although these attacks weren't deep, the blood lose was taking it's tool. The small Halfling was losing consciousness and fast.
He threw a few measly jabs now, before to Shamans appeared, with a glint in their eyes they muttered some words and fire engulfed the Halfling's body. He rived about in agony before he simply couldn't feel anymore pain.
On the outside, one would see a battered Halfling lying in Banes hospital, obviously in a Coma.
On the inside, the Halfling looked about his own mind, trapped.
The blow sent the Halfling flying back slightly, the brute force over powering the little persons agility. Nevertheless, the Halfling quickly returned to his to feet simply to receive a second powerful, skull crushing blow. This time the force burst open his right check, apparently the blunt trauma being too much for the Halfling's body. At the same time, a smaller Orge smashed the left side of his face, turning the skin a sicken black. All the while, smaller Orges' were tearing into the Halfling's chest, leaving cuts here, there and everywhere. Although these attacks weren't deep, the blood lose was taking it's tool. The small Halfling was losing consciousness and fast.
He threw a few measly jabs now, before to Shamans appeared, with a glint in their eyes they muttered some words and fire engulfed the Halfling's body. He rived about in agony before he simply couldn't feel anymore pain.
On the outside, one would see a battered Halfling lying in Banes hospital, obviously in a Coma.
On the inside, the Halfling looked about his own mind, trapped.
Re: Silent thoughts and deadly trots.
"Yeeeeee'lloooo!?"
Nothing, what were these people? Deaf? Stupid, ignorant? Or was the Halfling's voice getting smaller, quieter. Couldn't have that, no. Not at all. The Halfling turned from the screen like scene, funny, it seems of all the places his mind could wonder, conjure up. He conjured up his own sick bed. The Halfling had spent the last few days, screaming in hopes that someone would hear, no one answered.
" Bastards, tha' lot o' them. "
As he walked, the land grew before his eyes. He found this in itself funny, he only had one eye, why did he have the vision of two? He walked aimlessly the land sweeping before his every step. A dark, yet bright place. Bodies lay there, yet laughing Halflings' relaxed here. He caught his own face among the masses of his mind. He called out to the Halfling strapped in metal, laughing at an all to familiar fire pit. The Halfling didn't respond, he simply sat laughing with faceless friends.
For some reason, this infuriated the Halfling. His own, god damned self ignored him. He gripped his hands in anger, and found a pair of hilts'. His eyes darted to his sides to find two expertly crafted pieces of work. Smiling strangely, he slithered over to himself, sneaking up on the Halfling on the log. Then with a cackling laugh, he slashed at the Halfling. The blades struck through the neck, yet instead of a shower of blade, a cloud of dust. The figure on the log blew away with a unfelt wind.
With a smile, the Halfling looked down, just as the the ground gave way, and he fell into the bed.
The strange thing was, he had both his eyes still, or at least it seemed that way.
Upon unclenching his right hand, he found a glass Raven.
With that, the Halfling simply smiled.
Nothing, what were these people? Deaf? Stupid, ignorant? Or was the Halfling's voice getting smaller, quieter. Couldn't have that, no. Not at all. The Halfling turned from the screen like scene, funny, it seems of all the places his mind could wonder, conjure up. He conjured up his own sick bed. The Halfling had spent the last few days, screaming in hopes that someone would hear, no one answered.
" Bastards, tha' lot o' them. "
As he walked, the land grew before his eyes. He found this in itself funny, he only had one eye, why did he have the vision of two? He walked aimlessly the land sweeping before his every step. A dark, yet bright place. Bodies lay there, yet laughing Halflings' relaxed here. He caught his own face among the masses of his mind. He called out to the Halfling strapped in metal, laughing at an all to familiar fire pit. The Halfling didn't respond, he simply sat laughing with faceless friends.
For some reason, this infuriated the Halfling. His own, god damned self ignored him. He gripped his hands in anger, and found a pair of hilts'. His eyes darted to his sides to find two expertly crafted pieces of work. Smiling strangely, he slithered over to himself, sneaking up on the Halfling on the log. Then with a cackling laugh, he slashed at the Halfling. The blades struck through the neck, yet instead of a shower of blade, a cloud of dust. The figure on the log blew away with a unfelt wind.
With a smile, the Halfling looked down, just as the the ground gave way, and he fell into the bed.
The strange thing was, he had both his eyes still, or at least it seemed that way.
Upon unclenching his right hand, he found a glass Raven.
With that, the Halfling simply smiled.
Re: Silent thoughts and deadly trots.
A small Halfling sat on a mountain, chatting with someone who he knew could help him. Would help him, and Ultimately, kill him. He rounded of a bunch of reasons for his actions, and out of choice given, asked for a slow acting poison. Far cleaner than the fast acting ones, far more enjoyable than being run through with a dagger. He smiled and chatted quietly, hoping no one would spot his voice. Lord Nargun knows, people have super perception when it comes to these things. Ahh well, it would all soon be over.
He was handed a bottle which contained what he desired. Call it a release, call it his one desire. After all, his others had slowly vanished, leaving him in the hole which he now calls home. Never mind, he thought as he waited for a response, it'll all be fine in the end. With that, he uncorked the bottle, dipped his battered head back, and drink the poison down completely. It tasted bitter sweet, it tasted like a soft wine, yet he knew what it would do in time. Mere minutes as it were, he continued to chat, the poison gripping his body like a vice, then slowly crushing him from the inside.
After a few moments, the Halfling had tried to say everything he regretted not saying, deciding not to say. But alas, one who drinks a drink of death, should speak fast least they lose their one last breathe. He couldn't support himself, and laid down justly, he couldn't keep his eyes open and he closed them tightly. He couldn't enjoy life, thus he embraced his death happily.
He was handed a bottle which contained what he desired. Call it a release, call it his one desire. After all, his others had slowly vanished, leaving him in the hole which he now calls home. Never mind, he thought as he waited for a response, it'll all be fine in the end. With that, he uncorked the bottle, dipped his battered head back, and drink the poison down completely. It tasted bitter sweet, it tasted like a soft wine, yet he knew what it would do in time. Mere minutes as it were, he continued to chat, the poison gripping his body like a vice, then slowly crushing him from the inside.
After a few moments, the Halfling had tried to say everything he regretted not saying, deciding not to say. But alas, one who drinks a drink of death, should speak fast least they lose their one last breathe. He couldn't support himself, and laid down justly, he couldn't keep his eyes open and he closed them tightly. He couldn't enjoy life, thus he embraced his death happily.
Re: Silent thoughts and deadly trots.
Awoken by the haunting dream that left her breathless and shaky, the woman sat up with a jerk, taking a long moment to calm the unnatural beating of her heart. Slowly dragging herself from her sluggish state, she pushed the damp wayward curls that clung to her forehead, the remaining visions of her dream running once more through her mind. As customary to those dreams, they would soon fall in place, tugging at the woman’s memories, prodding her insistently in one way or another, until they finally emerged into a clear picture, one that would soon fill her with knowing dread.
Gripped by fear, Jaelle surged up to her feet, fully aware of where she was headed and what she would see, still however harbouring a little seed of hope. It was that which kept her rational as she searched around the empty rooms, loosing track at times, before she reached for her boots that lay strewn in some corner. She muttered and grumbled, generally cursing whoever had decided that boots should be laced up, her nimble fingers losing their finesse as she struggled harder with the strings. But the insistent nagging feeling soon won over, and she tossed her boots aside with force. Standing still barefoot, she finally ran towards the stairs.
It was some time before her worn out feet led her towards the copper mountains, still allowing that feeling to guide her way. She had long chosen practicality and hiked up the skirt of her sleeping gown up to her knees, and thus her pace now matched the ever growing persistence tugging at her heart. Up the ladders she went, scattered items and bags being the first sight to greet her and they became her pave way around the mountaintop before the stopped suddenly.
And there he lay..seemingly dead to her eyes..and for a moment her breath seemed to catch at her lips.
“Sere..what have you done..”, she finally spoke quietly before she knelt by his side examining the body that was in a state of comatose, a foul smelling bottle almost empty by his side. Her voice rose and fell in altering rants, pleadings, threats and finally hopeless silence. It was then, as she mulled over the actions to take that the feeling persisted another step further and she walked towards the clutter of items. Perhaps then it made some sense to the woman, as she read the wet parchment that lay on the dewy grass, and with it she discarded any attempts at reaching for help. Empty now as the feeling finally dissipated and her usual cheerful disposition overtaken by a sense of weariness, she covered the halfling with her old beaded shawl.
“May you find peace in the Goddess’s embrace..Sere, “she pressed a light kiss at his forehead then sat beside him silently.
Gripped by fear, Jaelle surged up to her feet, fully aware of where she was headed and what she would see, still however harbouring a little seed of hope. It was that which kept her rational as she searched around the empty rooms, loosing track at times, before she reached for her boots that lay strewn in some corner. She muttered and grumbled, generally cursing whoever had decided that boots should be laced up, her nimble fingers losing their finesse as she struggled harder with the strings. But the insistent nagging feeling soon won over, and she tossed her boots aside with force. Standing still barefoot, she finally ran towards the stairs.
It was some time before her worn out feet led her towards the copper mountains, still allowing that feeling to guide her way. She had long chosen practicality and hiked up the skirt of her sleeping gown up to her knees, and thus her pace now matched the ever growing persistence tugging at her heart. Up the ladders she went, scattered items and bags being the first sight to greet her and they became her pave way around the mountaintop before the stopped suddenly.
And there he lay..seemingly dead to her eyes..and for a moment her breath seemed to catch at her lips.
“Sere..what have you done..”, she finally spoke quietly before she knelt by his side examining the body that was in a state of comatose, a foul smelling bottle almost empty by his side. Her voice rose and fell in altering rants, pleadings, threats and finally hopeless silence. It was then, as she mulled over the actions to take that the feeling persisted another step further and she walked towards the clutter of items. Perhaps then it made some sense to the woman, as she read the wet parchment that lay on the dewy grass, and with it she discarded any attempts at reaching for help. Empty now as the feeling finally dissipated and her usual cheerful disposition overtaken by a sense of weariness, she covered the halfling with her old beaded shawl.
“May you find peace in the Goddess’s embrace..Sere, “she pressed a light kiss at his forehead then sat beside him silently.
Re: Silent thoughts and deadly trots.
In the dead of night, Kyre again went back to the mill looking to continue their conversation having enjoyed the give and take of the questions they had previously. Many times she was disappointed finding it empty, and every time there was no indication where he had gone. With frustration apparent in the flick of her good hand she again made a portal to test other places yet began to consider it almost a lost cause. Finally sitting at the harbor deep in thought, Kyre acknowleged to herself he had gone..either he finished his plans or no longer wanted to talk to her. Hoping it was the latter, Kyre walked to the water and threw the cut rope obtained from the mill into the water then made a fire on top of it watching it burn brightly as it floated down the river.
May Nargun treat you kindly Sere!
May Nargun treat you kindly Sere!