Cotinuation from Neopets

[Mac]

OOC:||
This roleplay was origially begun on the Neopets boards and for Anzia and I to continue I copied everything and am posting it here. It was rather a pain I'd not like to do again. *vein pulses*
The blue is my character, the white Anzia's, and the green and red two other Neopet roleplayers who fell away . . .

[Mac]

A tall, strongly built man, Rackador is knight, and looks just about to be the definition of the word. Alwhite armor covers his large frame, the breastplate a bare piece of metal, the bottom few inches bell out slightly to allow free movement of the thigh armor which covers the upper part of his leg. A rounded cap protects his knee, and the shin armor attaches just below it, giving good overall front protection, the mail beneath it circling around his entire leg, protecting the back from unexpected attacks. Layered pauldrons allow his shoulders better movement, the curved steel bands connecting to a piece of metal that protects Rackador's elbows, below which, after an inch of mail, is a guantlet enveloping his forearm and the back of his hand with small chinks covering his fingers, allowing them to bend. Were Rackador to raise his arm, you would see a mail sleeve attached to the mail hauberk beneath the chestplate at the underarm, and coming down the entire arm where it stops at the leather glove under the hand plating. A full visor jousting helmet fits over his head, the visor down, concealing a handsome face, framed by curly, shoulderlength blonde hair.

[Mac]

A full visor jousting helmet fits over his head, the visor down, concealing a handsome face, framed by curly, shoulderlength blonde hair.The helmet is rather simple, with a crest of flat steel running along the top to prevent splittage from any downward strikes. At his waist is a large hand-and-a-half sword, usuable with either one hand or two. On his left arm is a massive triangular shield, a gold griffin rampant on a field of red, or, as someone versed in heraldry would say, a griffin ore ramponte crimson. The heavy man is mounted on a large, magnificent brown charger, well armored just as his master, face covered by a slab of steel, neck ringed by multiple steel plates. A mail skirt runs around the entire warhorse, making it nearly impregnable. A large red etched saddle with high backs helps keep him mounted. A mailed hand rests lovingly on the beast's neck.

[Mac]

The knight sat in his saddle, horse pawing the ground boredly as the two stood at the bridge, waiting for someone to come. A pile of blunted lances rested a short distance off, and Rackador turns a helmeted head, making slight creaks, to look around.
The leaves rustled in the cool breeze. Trees swayed and dust flew. A young maiden, who looked around the age of 18, treaded silently on the forest floor. Her feet made no sound as they walked forward. The girl wore a dark green cloak, with a hood covering her head, and her identity. Underneath that she was wearing a long green, velvet gown, decorated with pearls and jewels.
Her pace quickened as she continued through the forest trees, aware of voices behind her. When she heard them get louder, and footsteps get faster, the girl broke into a run, pushing past branches and bushes. The voices were gaining and she kept looking behind her, checking how far behind the people were. Eventually she came to a clearing, but not looking in front of her, she tripped.

[Mac]

She yelped in pain as she tumbled to the floor, falling hard on the stony path. Conscious of the fact that the voices were nearing, the girl somehow managed to drag herself up, and into the tree she'd tripped over. She sat on the branch quietly, as the voices got nearer. "Where'd she go?" "We'll go this way, you two go that way." As the footsteps faded into the distance, the girl relaxed.
She pulled the hood off her head and allowed her black curly hair to bounce over her shoulders, and her pretty face to be exposed. The girl's name was Sorcha, meaning dark princess. She wasn't a princess, she was simply a pagan witch, and many were looking for her in relation to a local plague. Just because she was a witch, everyone assumed she had nothing better to do other than create plagues!
Well she did. Sorcha was currently looking for something which would cure her dieing father's illness. So far she had found nothing to cure his aches and pains or feeling of tiredness.

[Mac]

Trying to come up with something to save him was proving even harder. Sorcha wasn't necessarily the most talented of witches. Feeling the coast was clear, Sorcha managed to climb down from the tree. She quickly rubbed some thistle on her sore ankle, and it was healed with the help of a few of her words. She made her way to the stream where she'd be able to stop and rest for a while.
As Sorcha approached the clear stream, she noticed a knight on his horse, and immdeiately hid behind the nearest tree. She looked around her frantically, trying to find a way out without getting caught. That was when she stepped on a twig, then on some dry leaves, finally tripping once again. Sorcha was anything but graceful.

[Mac]

The knight felt his trained body tense as a twig snapped, and his hand strayed instinctively to his sword hilt as more noises accompied the first. Rackador nudged his horse forward, the animal's hooves clacking on the wood of the bridge as he crosses.
Sorcha cursed and swore like there was no tomorrow as she sat helplessly on the floor among the leaves and the twigs. Today really wasn't her day it seemed. She sighed as she hawled herslef up, expecting to be killed by the Knight any second now now.
It might have been particularly hot. There could have been no shade in particular as a sanctuary from the merciless shafts from the solar monarch's domain in heaven. But then again, a figurine beneath an ebon cloak particularly could care less. A slender figurine hid beneath the folds of the cape and cowl that was too big to ensure secracy. Identity was sorely precious at this point and time.

[Mac]

Anatomy of the seemingly human character had been birthed from the town. Surely innocent as leather of the toe of a pair of boots rythmicly appeared and then vanished again from beneath the hem of the cloak in step, right? If only they could see the golden eyes that betrayed far more then coy intentions. It sacrificed her race to the world that loathed her people.
After all, her kind from the Burning Sands had a reputaion to keep. A wicked one, but a title no less. And that flicker of malice could also be expressed in brazen lips twisted into a lopsided smile upon a fair mug - woe, as all was hidden by the hood of hers pulled low over her face. The head beneath the mask seemed to lift as a clamor of steel and hoof. Never could be too careful. -c
A harge hoof prods the sitting form of the witch, and a firm voice rings from the helmet and says, "Be thou friend or foe, madam?"

[Mac]

The knight felt his trained body tense as a twig snapped, and his hand strayed instinctively to his sword hilt as more noises accompied the first. Rackador nudged his horse forward, the animal's hooves clacking on the wood of the bridge as he crosses.
Sorcha cursed and swore like there was no tomorrow as she sat helplessly on the floor among the leaves and the twigs. Today really wasn't her day it seemed. She sighed as she hawled herslef up, expecting to be killed by the Knight any second now now.
It might have been particularly hot. There could have been no shade in particular as a sanctuary from the merciless shafts from the solar monarch's domain in heaven. But then again, a figurine beneath an ebon cloak particularly could care less. A slender figurine hid beneath the folds of the cape and cowl that was too big to ensure secracy. Identity was sorely precious at this point and time.

[Mac]

A harge hoof prods the sitting form of the witch, and a firm voice rings from the helmet and says, "Be thou friend or foe, madam?"

Sorcha slowly turned around on the spot and peeked her head out from behind the tree. Seeing the knight approaching she groaned quietly, wishing that her powers were more extent. So far all she could do properly was turn anything and everything pink-but that wasn't going to help her now....unless the knight really liked pink. Which she doubted.

And yet she craved the attention and thirsted for the thrill of being discovered. She yearned to see an expression of shock and a gasp catch in their throats when her race was discovered roaming this far north. And so step became just a little bit slower with desire. -done-

Sorcha looked up at the knight and the horse and blew a wisp of hair from her face. "Well, that really depends sir. Generally I am a friend, though as I said. It does depend."

[Mac]

The sight of a woman had caught the attention of the soldier first. Quite annoyed, her steps became even slower. Maybe she could just kill the wench... double the fun for one price. In a quandry now her mind was forced to manipulate her plans. Stupid woman just had to ruin her plans...
The knight swings a leg over his horse, getting down with surprising ease for one so armored. A hand lifts the helmet from his head, and a flick settles his hair in the normal position. A drop of sweat runs down his face as he says, "As you have probably guessed, I am a knight, and therefore honor bound to protect ladies." A hand extends to help her up.

Sorcha raised an eyebrow. Well this was a change from the usual "WITCH!! Get the little cow!! Burn her down burn her!!" that she usually got. "Thank you I guess" she said as she accepted his hand and stood up. She brushed the dirt off her dress and stood tall. "Though I'm sure I don't need protecting." She smiled and then noticed a figure in the distance. "Oh-oh." Was all she said.

[Mac]

Tender prints escaped from the chasm of the cloak, a soft hand of creamy mocha flesh jutting from the folds. Tips of her fingers ran along the stone rail of the bridge as water rushed beneath. So dangerously near the pair, she was, ears could detect a murmur of voices above the rush of water.

Sorcha's eyes began to glow a dark shade of pink as she stared at the figure getting nearer to them. though not a highly trained witch, Sora could sense danger a mile away, plus she could get herself out of almost every situation. For now she simply stared at the creature, not flinching a muscle.

Rackador turns to see what was causing the witch to glare. As of yet, of course, he did not know she was a witch. A covered thing with a hand was crossing the bridge.

Eyes were upon eyes, the tramps pink eyes locked upon her exotic gold ones. Her expression beneath the hood was punctuated by a quirk of a brow and the twist of her smile. But only her rich alto spill in laugher. This woman though she was a challenge for her? This witch thought she could match Anzia of the Burning Sands? Not a chance. No way.

[Mac]

Silence was what he'd been taught; silence and intergrity. They were a strange combination for it was usually one or the other espicially amoung the theives and assassins. But he was more than that, or at least that was what he had been taught.
Brenan was a transporter of a special and almost sacred item. At his age of 22 years he had so far successfully transported five eggs which all hatched.(c

Sorcha smiled briefly at the Knight. "Do excuse me, I think I need to go and speak with that thing over there." She then gently pushed past him andheaded over. She knew she didn't intimidate the woman at all. She could tell she was evil of the highest degree, and would never be frightened of someone like Sorcha; but she knew she could use that to her advantage. "Hello, may I help you?" she asked.

[Mac]

Back arched slightly to pull her face away from the arrogant woman who so readily faced her personified image of death. "Iston le...?" She murmured, sly tone spilling that thick dialect from her lips in disgust. And then in english as Sorcha seemed obviously confused. "Just crossing the bridge, dear. Now run along... A bit of advice too; don't make it a habit to pry into the lives of others."

Rackador keeps his eyes on the two magical women while moving towards his horse, which he leads behind a tree and tells "stay", removes his shield from the saddle, and puts his helmet back on, flipping the visor up. Can't be to careful. He'd seen too many good knights underestimate their oppenents, and pay dearly for the mistake.


The thin wood was silent except for the rich sound of a woman laughing that caused the hairs on Brenan's nape to stand on edge. Shouldering his pack- it was quite large and heavy for he happened to live out of it- the young man rubbed a hand over his angular featured face and moved toward the origin of the laugh rather reluctantly.

[Mac]

Intimidation had obviously been the downfall of that witch... no matter. An easy victory as it was done with little effort. But a challenge as tough as steel... literally... dared to venture in. She had time. Why not? "Mara ara, Sir..." She cooed, a tone brimming with poison.

His gray eyes met a familiar cloak as he came into view of a bridge with the o- so familiar figure, a lady, a full suited knight.
It was quite ironic for Brenan was almost the opposite of the knight: slimly built and made for sprinting cross country rather than enduring a battle.Stroking a hand through his short dark hair he put one weather beaten booted foot fowards.
The knight and lady had fled, leaving only her on the bridge.
As one hand gripped one of the twin short swords Brenan silently thanked the higher being that no one was here to see him quiver.
"My Lady," he spoke as he kneeled reluctantly but as agreed.

[Mac]

Another one gone... called away to duty. Where had all the fun gone in this world? Brest billowed up as a breath of rue was taken. At least she would look forward to the trinket she needed - that was if the fellow did his part. Lids had fluttered shut a moment to recollect on a few things as she sat upon the edge of the bridge. It was but a moment before thoughts were disturbed by gentle footfalls.
And then a title was bestowed upon her by the time eyes had a chance to open. Corners of her lips quirked into a smile. "My Lord," She chuckled gently, standing up from her perch to greet her fool. "Were you able to retrieve what I asked?"

He grimaced with his head bowed so his emotions could be kept his own. "Yes, my Lady. It is safe and intact."
Reflecting on his journey he unconsciously felt his side where a knife had been embedded; it had not been easy to retrive her trinket.

[Mac]

"Very good," She mused, a slight warble of her foriegn tune displaying pleasure. Eyes watched the skies for a moment in thought before casting down upon him once more thoughtfully. "And your payment, Sir? Have you thought of what that would be? Gold? Gems? Wine? Women? Set your price, Sir, as I know the trouble of your quest."

Truthfully he hadn't thought at all about payment. Usually that was the only thing on his mind while thieving for extra money, but this time it had been more difficult to occupy one's mind with petty materials.
"I'd like . . . I want half my payment in gold, and the other half in tack for a horse." He lifted his head a bit and sat back on his foot. Was that what he really wanted?

OOC:||DONE! I'll definitly never do this again!

[Anzia]

OoC} Terribly sorry to keep you waiting! I've been really busy lately and I haven't had time to start up anything worthwhile.

BiC}

Sun-kissed oculi glimmered within their cask of shadows. Interesting this fellow was. Torrid breath seeped from supple lips in objection "Is that all?" It was quite a surprise to listen to honest words... well honest enough for a thief. Soles raped the awaiting cobblestone as arms snuggled back within their keep - shape beneath the cloak near a mystery. She paced, contemplating as perfection to their deal was designed slowly with the babble of text. "If so, lets get going, Love. It's cold..." The fiery disk that loomed overhead beating down upon their worthless anatomies seemed to be absent in the mind of the rather intimidating lass as she walked away with a ruffle of her cloak. Northern sun wasn't as glamorous as the arid tones of a southern light.

[Mac]

OOC:|| Sorry, I've been out of town.

IC:||
Ah, how blessed the sight of a bustling city would be, and possibly he would be able to get two jobs done today if she took him to the nearest city of Galas. Standing he nodded silently and followed the cloaked figure, always just a few arms lengths behind.

Ever since she had first approached him in the bar he always shuddered when she spoke or got too near. Brenan had always a bit of an anxiety problem and kept his distance from people, but she was different. Just the fact that she was always covered in the same cloak, or maybe it was the aura she had of a nonhuman creature. He had tired numerous times to dismiss this theory but after each bartender he questioned he only came to the same conclusion.

Shaking a light head he aroused his senses to the scenary around and less on drifting thoughts.

[Anzia]

OoC} Blah. I was out of town too... I had to go to soccer camp for a while... and during my birthday too x__x I'm gonna see what I can do to make these posts of mine more frequent.

BiC}

Movements had never failed from their soundless lope - hardened soles of traveling boots even failing to betray much more then a silent click upon the surface of the man-made earth. Bodies had twined to the obnoxious rocking and grinding of the vermin of the city streets. Thieves, beggars, and a few lonelyy merchants mingling among the masses to her disgust. It was why prefrence was more then often antisocial then anything else.

Head, or what was assumed was there in the obsidian formed by the low drawn cowel, directed towards her minion. Amber spies glowed guilty in the darkness as they were forced to search a moment for him. Continuation of her gavotte betrayed their sculptures to the havoc of a pub. Rowdy, grubby men pawing at her figure in experiment to identify her gender in the drunken stupor. Once pleased they attempted to claw in for secods. They were only met with the hem of her cloak. They were only left to gawk as she plopped down with a languid wave of her hand through a slit in her attire.

"Two skree beers... unless-" Vocals paused to scavage for the pleasing attraction of her drone. Once located dangerous alto progressed. "That is too strong for you, Love..?"