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...tha wun 'bout tha guyver wut almos' died perposin'
Posted: 09 Aug 2005 02:19 PM |
"I wus wunnerin' if maybe...ya think ya'd wanna git married?”
He opened his hand to reveal the ring.
He held his breath.
The question had clearly stunned her. She looked at the ring in his hand for what seemed an eternity, until the guyver started to feel the effects of not breathing and became a bit dizzy.
He wasn't sure why she would be so suprised. Rafferty was right -as usual-. He was a mess without her. And while -normal- people spent years checking and rechecking the obvious before they finally gave in... He was -not- normal . He knew what he felt, and try as she might to hide it sometimes, he knew what she felt too. Getting married would solidify it, make it real for her, and -that- was what he had wanted for a long time.
His heart started to thump on his ribs angrily as if to say..."oi! where's tha dam air ya bluddy idjit?!"
He looked to her for the one word that would bring relief.
"yes" , she said
The air flowed into his lungs as he smiled in relief, and all was right with the world. Except maybe for a heart that was still a little annoyed at the air embargo, and, if you were listening really carefully, the sigh of an old knight. |
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Re: ...tha wun 'bout tha guyver wut almos' died perposin'
Posted: 10 Aug 2005 10:44 AM |
((I really like this story if this happens in game could you please let me know I would like to witness the event.
Keep up the Good Work.))
[OOC post in response to an IC post editted to have OOC brackets - Sol ] |
You're only given a little spark of madness. You mustn't lose it.
~Robin Williams
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Lonely with the alone
Posted: 12 Aug 2005 11:06 PM |
Sir Rafferty Thunderheart, Knight to the lady Eratia, Paladin of Thunder, Defender of the Crown, Keeper of the Faith, Wielder of the Holy Pureblade, and Champion of the needy, looked around at his surroundings and couldn’t help but chuckle. Much to the chagrin of the guyver, who, with tongue stuck out in fervent concentration, and brow beaded with sweat, was dismantling a trap on a dusty looking chest.
The guyver cleared his throat quietly, but just loud enough to convey his annoyance.
“Ya mind mista Raff? If this trap blows, ev’ry deder in tha ‘ole place is gonna be on us like Fat Sam on a peech pie.”
“Of course my boy", the old paladin hummed apologetically,” my deepest apologies.”
The guyver nodded curtly to himself and returned his attention to the tripwires. There were four of them intertwined in a pattern not unlike that of a geometrically challenged spiders web. Each wire seemed to be pulling on the other. Cutting the wrong one would be disastrous, and the halfling had a wedding he wanted to live to attend.
The old man looked at the shimmering pictures of thought whooshing past his vantage point, and shook his head grinning wryly, barely keeping another chuckle at bay. The workings of the halfling mind were certainly a weird wonder to observe.
Here the lad was, following the wires carefully with his razor sharp clippers to find the one that was actually attached to the trap mechanism so that he could cut the correct one, and not become a new stain on the floor of the tomb. Meanwhile, ( the knight had to restrain himself from laughter), here in the “theatre of the guyver mind” , only one thought was dedicated to the rather serious matter at hand, while countless others spun about the paladins head in a dizzying dance. The old man had been here far to long to bother warning the boy of the dangers of this. It wouldn’t be heard anyway. Instead, he sat back to take it all in. There was one looking ahead to opening the chest to find an astronomical amount of gold that would be enough to pay the Kazim for the scry proofing of the store, with enough to pay for whatever kind of wedding Cora might want, ( there were a few daydream shaded pictures of the event twirling lazily to one side), and enough left over to put some aside for the “little guyvers”.
Rafferty smirked at all twenty pictures of the young Jaxons shaking his head with a grin. With as much as the girl had taught the boy about such matters, the pictures still showed each child being delivered to the front door of the guyver store by a large, humanoid, bird faced creature, dressed in one of Versucchi’s finest suits. And, of course, each little tyke was fully equipped with miniature black armor, short swords, and, as was to be expected, the small belt pouch of little guyver tools. The paladin raised a speculative eyebrow. There was certain to be a strong discussion about the number of children he was expecting when THAT reality was revealed.
Off in a corner, a few maps of Maldovia flitted around with members of the guyvers in different positions depicted by chess pieces.
A few pictures of future practical jokes to be played on friends, tumbled along the ground like drunken acrobats, and as always they were all overseen by the ever present pictures of the raven haired Cora in her many different moods and poses.
The old paladin thought back to his days at the seminary and sighed. If sir Harthak could only see him now, he smirked darkly. The angry admonitions would be heard to the heavens and beyond to be sure.
His thoughts were cut short as all the pictures disappeared, and everything went black.
A moment of panic made his heart kick like a startled warhorse.
All was dark.
All was quiet.
And then…
click
…there was a quiet sigh of relief, and the pictures returned, almost more vibrant than before.
The old knight scowled, his irritated voice creaking in unison with the opening chest.
“What are we doing down here anyway?” , he grumbled curtly.
“’old tite mista Raff”, came the cheery response, as the jangle of coins being stuffed into a sack echoed through the chamber, “ a pritty lady d’serves pritty things. We’ll be outta ‘ere in a mo’. “
He was sir Rafferty Thunderheart , Knight to the lady Eratia, Paladin of Thunder, Defender of the Crown, Keeper of the Faith, Wielder of the Holy Pureblade, and Champion of the needy, and, he reckoned he didn’t have much of a choice but to…
“ ‘old tite. “ |
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Trust and Concequences
Posted: 29 Aug 2005 07:50 PM |
He slinked in the door, a dour look on his face.
“Bluddy fools”, he muttered angrily as he stalked over to the door to the apartment.
He had been away for a week. Trying to find Lex, trying to put the finishing touches on the plan to keep the shadows away from the Brandibuck. He returned to a world gone batty. Earthquakes, magic all cocked up, and, a bunch of people, (few of them hin), more than happy to let the evil of the Bloodwood traipse through the Brandibuck. He slammed the apartment door behind him and looked around for the one person in his life who could help him forget. There was nothing but a note on the desk written in her usual whimsical style.
Gone “shopping”
Love Cora
“hmmm”, he intoned unconvinced.
He sat at the desk and looked at the list of names frowning. It was all well and good to join a group of folks when they gave you free stuff, and bandied about fantastical ideals of winning an impossible battle. But it amazed him how it seemed like so many of them were pretty much willing to follow anyone or anything in his absence. As if the lives of the people of the Brandibuck were a bauble to be played with.
The swirling mists of evil that engulfed Vives were certainly the enemy that needed to be defeated, but they most definitely weren’t the only obstacles to victory. It was almost as if the mists of evil had infected those who purportedly fought for good. Infected them with ignorance. Almost as if the infection knew what the evil wanted, and was bound and determined to make it happen no matter what.
He frowned at a memory.
That smug bastard Lucifer had the bollocks to call him a master of chaos, and yet his adherence to an oppressive, predictable, suicidal law just drew the ignorant down the same road time and again. The same, predictable road, that never achieved anything, just perpetuated the same status quo. Fighting evil was easy. Defeating it certainly required a dedication lacking in the hearts of many. He glared in disgust. He was not here to run around in circles and act the fool. He was here to go to the source and destroy it.
He slammed his fist on the desk.
The time had come to change the face of the guyvers. He would no longer supply the needs of those who would wield their weapons at the behest of any boneheaded moron satisfied with “having a little fun” perpetuating the bloody “balance”.That was as bloody evil as evil itself. No. It was time to return to the shadows, and bring about real change from there. He would talk to Jubei and tell him this. If Jubei felt anyone could be a part of this then he would trust his judgment. The rest would be allowed to follow the directionless “law” that swirled aimlessly like the sludge in the sewers that moved but only in ineffective circles in the whirlpools in the drains.
He looked at Cora’s note his eyes glinting slightly in the light of the lamp above his desk.
Yes. It was time to go “shopping”.
Alone. |
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The joke that's justice
Posted: 15 Sep 2005 04:04 PM |
The guyver shook his head and laughed mirthlessly.
"Innocents wut neva dun nuthin' ta nobuddy... heh... tha's a goodun'... bluddy lyin' good fer nuthin' meenies."
The old paladin growled angrily.
"Well... you've done it this time haven't you my lippy young friend."
Johe looked at the notices in his hands and smirked with a cocky "pffft" escaping his lips.
"It's tha same as it awlways is mista Raff. I'm tellin' ya there's sum meen bugger wuts bigger 'n all tha meenies wuts runnin' tha show. 'Ow else ya gonna 'splain 'ow tha gooders gits all dum an' backward evry time they need ta git ta werk?Or 'ow tha meenies c'n organize big armies while tha gooders c'n barely organize a tea party without sum numnut buggerin' it up? Or 'ow meenies c'n go anywhere they bluddy plees an' do wuteva they likes, evin wen they pretend ta be all inta followin tha bluddy law," the last word was spat with derision as he slapped the paper in his hand with a gloved fist,"...'sides ya don' reely think I'm gonna let sum bluddy meenies werry me do ya?"
The paladin harumphed.
"No of course not my boy", he intoned with an evident lack of conviction," but I also know you will not allow the good folk of the Brandibuck to suffer."
"Well no," the halflings brows knitted together over his black eyes as if to shield them, " I bin tryin' ta git tha meenies' dander up fer a long time now, figgered it wus tha only way ta git them lazy gooders ta quit their bluddy yappin' an' git ta fitin'!"
"Well this one did not quite work out the way you planned it now, did it my boy." the old man sighed.
The young guyver shrugged.
"No I reckon it didn't. But...well..." he scratched his head absently,".. it is wut it is. Like you awlways sez, wen life givs ya lemuns, squirt tha juice in tha meenies eyes an' beet tha snot outta 'em afore they sees ya rite?"
There was a moment of confused silence before the aged knight spoke.
"Uh...well not exactly... but that will suffice I suppose." The old man cleared his throat politely.
The small man shrugged, a sad smirk twitching his mouth.
"It's bin a good run mista Raff", he took a ring from his belt pouch turning it over and over with his nimble fingers, looking at it with a touch of melancholy on his face. " Would it botha ya an awful lot if we died tryin' instead 'o winnin' like we awlways 'oped?"
The old paladin looked at the pictures of Cora twirling slowly around him and sighed.
"No my boy, I suppose not."
Johe looked up at the door to the apartment.
"Cus...well...I reckon tha bestest way ta pertect my Cora is prolly ta not be aroun' "
The knight sat in sad silence.
"'sides," the guyver checked his weapons, his voice chirping as innefectively as his hollow smile," we just mite pull it off, ya neva know...", he shrugged," an' evin if we don', maybe tha gooders'll see that if lil Johe 'ad tha sack ta stand up ta tha meenies maybe they could too."
"hmmm...perhaps so my boy," said Rafferty slowly,"perhaps so."
Johe nodded and walked to the door clutching the ring firmly.
"Just gotta drop off sumthin' ferst an' we'll 'ead out okie dokie?"
The old knight looked up at the pictures with a sad, wry smile that held a strange hint of pride in it, and sighed softly.
"Okie dokie, my boy." |
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When all else is lost...
Posted: 20 Sep 2005 04:01 PM |
Pain.
Excruciating, exquisite, pain.
It danced on his skin like a troop of ballerina razors. He looked at his reflection in the mirror for as long as he could stand the sight, which wasn’t long.
“Cora…”
His cracked lips formed the breathed word, his bloodshot eyes wincing at the pain. He wanted to see her, to hold her…but. He couldn’t let her see him like this. He turned from the mirror and shuffled to the couch and sat down slowly, biting his lip as the charred scabs audibly crackled and popped as he descended. He leaned back against the couch and sighed softly as his muscles relaxed under his skin, and the tension that caused the pain of the burns subsided. He closed his exhausted eyes, and sighed again. The overwhelmed, last sigh of the man in torrential flood waters, holding onto a tuft of grass, and knowing it’s only a matter of time. He held on a moment longer, and then, with a soft whimper, he let go. The tears flowed and joined the weeping wounds in stinging rivulets down his blackened face.
His thoughts whirled in insanity around one central thought that bit into his mind. His head lolled as he whispered it.
“I neva evin got ta take a swing.”
Indeed he hadn’t. So formidable was the priestess’ power that she had rendered him paralyzed with the wave of a hand, taken everything, and burned him beyond recognition.
His thoughts closed in on him like a pack of hungry wolves.
He had failed.
He hadn’t deserved Cora to begin with, but now…
There was no way he could expect her to stay with him now. Not like this. Oh sure she might feel duty bound to “stand by her man” but waking up next to him in the morning, and having to run to the bathroom to vomit in revulsion at the very sight of him would take it’s toll…
…and Claudia…was it true? Had she somehow returned?…they said she had few memories, but that she knew he had killed her, and that even now she was being told by the fire bitches minions to hate him as they did.
….six hundred and fifty thousand gold pieces taken from the store and a strange note delivered by a mysterious man that said “contract filled”?
…no tools, no weapons, no armor…only…only…
He looked down at his cracked and oozing body.
…only this.
Rafferty’s remembered words echoed behind the snarling thoughts that tore into his mind ripping mercilessly.
“We are tools of goodness , tools break , but they do their job until they do…”
He hitched a sigh painfully.
He was broken.
He closed his eyes and prayed to Gashers mom to let him die.
And then…
It came like a rescuers hand plunged into the floodwaters.
He saw her standing there watching him being humiliated and plundered, he heard her laughter.
Juylina
The woman who had threatened his friends.
The bitch who would pay…
Yes
He had lost everything.
And the flood waters had carried him far.
But he had one thing left.
He stood slowly, the winces turning to determined grunts. He stormed through the house, like a deranged troll throwing items from chests and cupboards until he found what he was looking for. A few weapons, and some armor for when the scabs hardened enough so he could wear it.
He looked at himself in the mirror again, and flexed his muscles grinning at the puss that ran freely from his wounds, reveling in the agony.
He had one thing left…
Hatred.
…and the pain
Excruciating, exquisite
Pain. |
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Re: When all else is lost...
Posted: 20 Sep 2005 04:13 PM |
((very cool read ..... don't forget he has another thing left though, you missed out his fury )) |
- Solitaire, Wizard
- Ilyana Fiirhaart, High Priestess of Naruth |
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Apron strings
Posted: 21 Sep 2005 03:56 PM |
He peeked around the chair, frowning slightly at the package, like a beaten dog offered a bone. He reached for it gingerly. The last package he had recieved had ripped HIM open instead, and after the past couple of days, his fragile mind wasn't sure he could or should handle it.
The hatred and pain that motivated every step toward vengeance had placed his temper on a razor thin edge. Markus, or whatever his name was, had seen that first hand when he had come to ask questions for Blanche about a mission he most certainly wouldn't have the stomach to complete...
The realization that Balthor was right. They WERE beaten to the hells and beyond by their dedication to the cause, and those beatings were taking their toll on their effectiveness. Maybe it WAS time to hang it up, and train in the next generation. He had to admit, he had been watching Tomi, and Mikaylin, subconciously thinking that very thought.
It was just...
He frowned at himself
...so difficult to let go of certain "personal"items on the list...
Maybe after those were handled?
He smirked
Sure that day would be along right after Gashers mom and Syn did the jig at their wedding.
He sighed
But it didn't change the fact that Balthor was right...
The sickening sadness in the pit of his stomach, when he looked at Cora's face when she saw him napping on the couch and he couldn't hide in time... or was sick of hiding, and hoped beyond hope that maybe...
She had put on a brave face over her revulsion. She had even steeled herself and kissed him goodbye.
His eyes drooped in sadness.
He loved her for that, but he had seen through her facade. He couldn't blame her for what he saw. He was destroyed beyond recognition. With a visage that possibly not even Gashers mom would want to make "sammiches" for...
The feeling of vertigo in his chest at the thought of Claudia somewhere out there hating him...
All of these emotions mixed inside of him to form a thick goo, like the tar the Midorans were surely making for their war machines. A goo that was suffocating his soul, and here was the package that could be the flint to his tinder heart. He thought of himself on that tightrope over heaven and hell, a hurricane pushing him towards the fire.
The package just sat there in benign silence, almost looking serene. Perhaps it was halfling curiosity, or the guyver in him testing his luck just one more time, but before he knew what he was doing small scabbed hands cut the string and began to peel away the paper. He held his breath a moment, peering inside. A look of confusion twisted his brow, then the light of realization began to smoulder in his eyes, warming the cold steel expression that had been there moments before, and melting it from his face. A small tear trickled over his smiling cheek, like the first drop of a drought ending rain.
He stood and looked at it a moment, eyes dancing in the lamplight of the guyver store...
Venison, ripe tomatoes, fresh greens, and cheese on soft bread that still felt warm to the touch, and a bright green emerald beside it,like an after dinner mint, to dissuade any doubt who had made it. His eyes squinted ever so slightly in incredulous thought, as the corners of his mouth rose to meet them.
He looked to the rafters and whispered.
"Thanks mum... I git it, I'll try me bestest I promise."
Perhaps the winds were changing...
He sat and began to eat his sandwich, head bowed in humility and gratitude. Perhaps later he would go to Shalee and Chandlers for dessert...
(( GrimJester, that was not only classic, and inspiring, it was downright classy... thanks)) |
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The past as a pillow
Posted: 05 Oct 2005 05:00 PM |
Tired…
So tired…
Yes he was tired, but it didn’t seem to soak as deep into his little halfling body as it had before…
They had gone to help the deaders with their excessive gold problem. He grinned, the scars on his face worbling into a strange looking mask. It had been like the old times. They laughed and joked. She flirted. He blushed… a lot. He had almost forgotten how disfigured and ugly he must look to her, until they returned home. They spoke of future plans and concerns, and then, she kissed him. He reached for her, and his memory returned. Looking at the ground, trying to hide his face from her, he had mumbled his goodbyes and turned to leave, when her delicate white hand reached for him, and turned him towards her. She raised his chin, and looked him in the eye, as she said the words that lifted boulders of self remorse and doubt from his aching halfling heart.
“I want you to stay.”
And stay he did. Sleeping like a baby, with her in his arms, for the first time in a very long time.
That had been three days ago. He had left with a renewed resolve to find Gashers mom, and see if she could fix his face. To find a way to get his gear back so he could continue the fight. Three days he had been on the road, but there was still that usual cocky spring in his step. She loved him. She really did! What more could a guyver ask for?
Up ahead he saw Enders tent shimmer in the dessert heat. He chuckled to himself as he headed toward it. When one girl could make you this happy, why would you want more? He shook his head grinning as he stepped through the tent flap with a cheery,
“Oi mista Ender, I…”
He blinked…
With each blink, he felt and heard the synapses of his mind snapping, like the taut wires of a trap. Starbursts bloomed before his eyes with each beat of his heart, but they did little to hide what his disbelieving eyes saw before him. Time slowed to a crawl. Each thundering thump of blood through his veins was an earthquake that shook the very foundations of his being.
A beautiful halfling, her hair pulled back the way she always did. Eyes that could drop a man where he stood. Lips that could tame the wildest beast. It was her. Loved and cherished so long ago, killed by his own hand, mourned for what seemed an eternity. It was…
“cyfi?…”
He took a wavering step towards her, as if he was crossing a bottomless chasm on a tightrope. She looked up at him, and her eyes flashed like a déjà vu nightmare. He faltered and stopped dead, weaving slightly, buffered by unseen winds.
She was kneeling next to an elven woman…an awfully familiar elven woman. The battered gears of his mind clunked and clanked, like a gnomish contraption operated by a deranged ogre. It was…Eleana? He reeled in the shock waves of his quaking pulse.
“Don’t come any closer Johe”, said the halfling sorceress, as her fingers flexed in little arcane movements. The faint smell of burning pitch seemed to waft around the tent. Ender, on the cushions with his wives, looked up with a concerned eyebrow raised, and nodded to the tradesman, who surreptitiously began packing up his wares.
Johe leaned forward as if to take another step forward, but his legs couldn’t move, and just quavered uselessly beneath him. His eyes globes of pained remorse, he opened his mouth.
“but cyfi… I…”
She turned on him, her eyes flaring with sheet lightning anger.
“Don’t you DARE call me that! Murderer!”
He slumped to the ground and put his head in his hands. His knuckles whitened as his fingers seemed to be trying to keep his shattered thoughts together. Somewhere he heard a ragged old voice whisper.
“Oh hells…”
It was true. He had passed it off as impossible, and let it skip through his head. Forgotten it… but… Nico had been right, Jessup had told him…it was… true. Claudia was alive… but how?…alive…and the fire bitch and Juylina had gotten to her first, and told her…
He sobbed softly into his palms…
They told her the truth…
He –had- killed her…
Murdered her…
and…
and… If Jessup knew…then…
Cora knew… THAT’S why she had asked if there was another reason he wanted to go that night…oh gods…
His thoughts tumbled in turmoil. He raised his face, peeking at her over his fingers.
“Luv…Claudia… I…” he stammered, “it wus Fenguul… I neva knew it wus you… until…”
She silenced him with a blistering look. He let his head fall back into his grasping hands, as she began to mutter an incantation. He found himself hoping it was a big fat fireball aimed straight at him.
But the blast never came.
After a moment he looked up. She, and Eleana were gone. His mind went blank, except for one quiet thought that drummed in the deepest recesses of his mind. The drums grew louder and louder until it was all he could hear. His sight reddened as he turned to the tent flap, and clenched his fists. Somewhere a patriarchal voice spoke.
“What are you going to do my boy?”
The guyver stepped into the dessert heat as he gave a cold, empty voice to the thought pounding in his head.
“Beet tha truth outta tha fire bitch rite afta I kill that bastad Fenguul”
A blade of grass bent slightly.
A leaf stirred.
A dagger appeared from the shadows and sliced a quicklings throat with a gurgled swish.
Black eyes looked around emotionlessly for the next victim.
Black boots stepped into the shadow of a nearby tree.
Tired…
…so tired
Tired of waiting for vengeance.
Tired of thirsty hands aching to feel the blood and gore of the hated enemy splattered all over them in gobs.
Mmmmmmmm yes.
Black eyes squinted with a deranged pleasure at the giantling across the bridge.
Black boots carried the guyver to his prey along shaded paths.
A jumble of thoughts tumbled painfully in his mind, like shards of glass in a lottery drum.
…so tired
A black gloved hand gripped a dagger a bit tighter.
Black eyes widened with anticipation.
A black boot snapped a twig…
He looked up from the ground with an odd look of peace on his bloodied face.The mace had caught him squarely in the bridge of his now shattered nose. The blood was warm…almost soothing. Two quicklings pointed at him, and giggled. He looked over at them briefly, and smiled. He supposed it might be rather funny funny funny from a certain point of view. At least the incessant noise of his thoughts was numbed from him.
He looked up dazedly at the giantling standing over him as it raised the mace over it’s head with both hands.
Yes…this’d be alright…
After all he was…
so… |
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Black Interlude
Posted: 16 Nov 2005 11:08 AM |
To close ones eyes and never move.
To rest.
To hear, but not recognize the voice of an old paladin in your head urging you to fight.
To let the arms of oblivion cradle you in it's protective embrace.
To actually hear silence.
To let go of the incessant quest for vengeance and right, without guilt.
To look back on the faces of those loved with a fond farewell, incapable of regret.
To see those black eyes.
To hear her thoughts...
... Give me these moments back
... Give them back to me
... Give me that little kiss
... Give me your hand
... I know you have a little life in you yet
... I know you have a lot of strength left
... I should be crying but I just can't let it show
... I should be hoping but I can't stop thinking
... Of all the things we should have said that we never said
... All the things we should have done that we never did
... All the things that you needed from me
... All the things that you wanted for me
... All the things I should have given but I didn't
... make it go
... make it go away now
A black heart stirred.
A black gloved hand twitched.
An old paladin looked up from his reverie, a glint in his grey eyes...
(( Credits: Kate Bush )) |
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Black Interlude II
Posted: 17 Nov 2005 09:00 PM |
“Johe…”
The old mans voice echoed in the darkness, like a ball thrown by a lonely boy playing catch with himself.
“Come on lad…”
All was still.
“There’s work to be done my young guyver, what of the vengeance against the evil fire priestess? The thinning of evil before the coming storm? The death of Juylina?”
The silence was cold obsidian.
“They have come for you my boy, they’re trying to help you right now, but you have to take that step. Come now lad, I know you can do it.”
The blackness stared the old knight square in the eyes, uncaring, unmoving.
“If you’ll not do it for me, do it for her. She needs you Johe. Do it for Cora.”
A spark ignited in the darkness. A single picture of sultry black eyes spun lazily about the old paladins head. He smiled nodding slowly to himself.
“Good lad… now… open your eyes...” |
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Of frying pans and fires
Posted: 19 Nov 2005 04:26 PM |
The life of a guyver is not for the faint of heart. To be fair, there isn’t much documentation to prove this statement completely, as it is a fairly new occupation, invented by an elderly knight and bestowed on a small halfling. Suffice to say, however, the life and times of said halfling guyver have lent much credence to it.
“Out uf tha fryin’ pan an’ inta tha fire”
Johe had never quite understood what mother Jaxon had meant when she muttered the phrase… well… not until that moment at least.
Three beautiful halfling girls, and a trusted dwarven friend had come to rescue him from Fenguul. Which, in and of itself was a good thing. After all, Jubei the sapper was a hell of a guyver, and trusted friend. Except, apparently, when faced with three beautiful halfling girls. Three beautiful halfling girls that, in fact, had come to raise a guyver so they could kill him again. Or, at least, to fling cruel words at him until he wished he was dead. Johe half smiled, half grimaced as he remembered Jubei’s hasty retreat. That “I wouldn’t want to be you if it involved a lifetimes supply of ale and gold” look peeking apologetically at him from under those bushy eyebrows.
And there they stood around him, like vertically challenged avenging angels of death. Claudia, Meram and Cora. The word “yikes” screeched through his mind like a naked woman clutching a towel to her, as she ran from a peeping tom. Followed by the lumbering groan of an exasperated old knight.
“oh hells…”
The guyver, sensing a threat, instinctively looked at each of them trying to read their faces. All three stories had tragic endings, involving torture and dismemberment, this struck him as very unfortunate as he was rather fond of all of his members.
Then they spoke…well… not continuously. Cora slapped him from time to time so that he would know where the exclamation points were in certain sentences, for wich he tried to be grateful with little to no success.
It quickly became apparent that the three had met to organize a rescue, and had taken the opportunity to vent, share, and combine all the things that angered them about the little man. Which, he supposed, was somewhat fortunate, as it gave them a reason to come find him…. He supposed.
He remembered little of what was said. Who would when faced with three angry women? He did what any brave guyver would do under the circumstances. He steeled his resolve, stuck his courage to the sticking place, and bravely ran away. He would deal with each of them eventually, just not all at once. Such impossible tasks were…well… impossible.
Besides…
He thought with a smile, as he held her closer in his warm bed.
He had talked to the most important one already. The memory of the look on her face when he signed the store over to her, made his smile widen. Some might think him crazy to do such a thing just to prove a point, but it was just stuff after all.
“Rite mista Raff?”
The cheery voice echoed from behind the spinning pictures.
“Yes my boy… I’m very proud of you”
“Why’s tha’?”, queried Johe.
“Because impossible choices are hard to make lad.”
“Yeah…”
Haunted black eyes squinted slightly. He wanted so much to talk to Claudia, to explain the truth, but what good would it do? He closed his eyes pulling Cora closer to him. He needed to rest. Tomorrow was another day, and the life of a guyver was certainly not for the faint of heart. |
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The return of the Guyver
Posted: 26 Nov 2005 03:58 PM |
Johe watched Byron leave, and looked back to his drink with a frown. He shrugged halfheartedly. If anyone could convince Claudia and Eliana that he cared for the family deeply, it was Byron, and yet… He sighed at the bottle of ale as if it had passed gas. It wouldn’t change the fact that things were different now. Different, never to be the same. Claudia was hurt. Hurt because there were things she couldn’t, or wouldn’t, remember. And, yet again, he found himself in that impossible position, where, through no desire of his own, HE was the one hurting someone he loved and would never want to hurt.
Eliana would, of course never forgive him. Claudia came first, well… Claudia, and whatever crossed her path at that moment, he smirked mirthlessly. Eliana had never showed any “sticktoitiveness” when it came to being a leader in the guyvers, and even if she had, she most certainly would have been out the door over these latest developments. And then there was Byron, he squinted slightly in thought. What was going on with the big lug anyway? He blushed slightly in shame. Byron deserved better, but he had only been half participating in the conversation they had just had. The other half of his meandering mind had been reading the mans face. If a picture is worth a thousand words, Byron was an art gallery before a job.
How did that go again…?
He smiled secretly…
Hi! I’m Byron. I’m the last son, but then you more than likely already knew that. I think I maybe was a paladin, but then I definitely wasn’t for a while, but then I kinda was for a bit, and now I’m pretty sure I am one again…or…maybe not AGAIN , that is to say, if I actually WASN’T one to begin with…
The halfling grinned playfully as his thoughts rambled on, much to the chagrin of an old man, who was positive he WAS a paladin, and had had quite enough of all the time that had been wasted already.
The smile faded as he remembered that odd look in Byron’s eyes. That look that stated flatly,” I’m gonna try the best I can, but I know we’re all gonna die anyway.”
The guyver hummed as he finished his ale and stood to leave the Broken Mask. They had called each other brother from the time Byron had invited him into the family, and, he supposed, the title fit. They were constantly at odds. His dogged determination, and passion for victory over the list, victory at any cost, had constantly been cause for argument with Byron’s knightly way of wanting to do things by some bloody rule book for paladins and gooders in general.
“And why is it do you suppose that there was no fighting this time lad?” an elderly voice queried gently.
“eh?” the guyver frowned, ”wutcha meen by tha’?”
“Is it possible,” the old knight continued firmly,” that you’ve allowed your problems to cloud your passion for the list? That the guyver knight has indeed been felled by love?”
Johe stopped dead in his tracks. His eye twitching for a moment. His first instinct was to lash out at the knight. Tell him he had no business saying such a thing to a guyver who had risked life and limb for the cause…the cause… How long HAD it been since he had done anything to strike a name from the list? He had always been proud that, while others ran around aimlessly reacting to the chaos thrown at them by the “meenies”, he and the guyvers always forged on against the foe, ignoring the slings and arrows in their path, but… lately…not so much. Sir Rafferty was right…
Johe squinted and started for the door again, his scarred fists clenched with a new determination.
“No mista Raff, nobuddy drops a guyver fer long.”
“I see,” said the knight trying his utmost to hide any sign of bemusement in his voice,” so where are we off to then?”
Johe reached into his belt pouch and pulled out a very tattered piece of parchment that hadn’t seen the light of day for quite some time. He studied it a moment then folded it and set off at a brisk pace.
“we’re gonna leave a note fer Cora so she knows where we is, then we’re ‘eadin out ta talk ta mista Tag ‘bout tha plan ta git me kit back, then we gotsta stop by an’ see if Gashers mum’s got tha fix fer me scars yet, an’ THEN we gits ta do tha guyver tour an’ see jus’ ‘ow buggered things got while we wus restin’.”
“Very well master guyver”, Sir Rafferty smiled,”I’m most pleased we have a plan.”
“oh we gots a plan awlrite.”
The guyver’s eyes sparkled in the sun as he set out to start a new fight with his brother, Byron. |
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Promises kept
Posted: 01 Jan 2006 02:53 PM |
He frowned, his little black eyebrows thunderheads over squinting pits of anger. It had taken him twice the time it normally would to get from Midor to the port. The voices…those bloody voices in the shadows. The incessant malevolent whispering, it had dulled his concentration, making him scattered and directionless. In the depths of his mind, something warned that this meant more, and was more dangerous than even he could imagine. He finished scribbling the note to Lord Tagreth that the kidnapping of the bitch Juylina needed to be postponed indefinitely because of the danger the voices posed. Handing the note to Gwar with muttered instructions, he stalked back into the apartment, avoiding any mirrors in his path. It seemed Gashers mom had more important things to do than fix a guyvers face so he would feel that curdling feeling in the pit of his stomach when he saw Cora look at him with those eyes. He cast a forlorn glance into the bedroom, and nodded sadly at what he already knew by the distant smell of orchids on the air. She had been gone for a while. He walked back to the kitchen, and pulled a dusty bottle of ale from a case in the corner. Returning to his desk, he sat with a grunt that echoed the sound his aching feet would have made if they could. He uncorked the bottle and took a long pull of the golden liquid inside. He sighed and leaned back in the chair glaring at all the paperwork on the desk that was too mean, and spiteful to do itself.
“Bugga’s”, he whispered, the breath from his throat, like sizzling sap from a green log on a campfire.
“They’re coming Johe”, a fatherly voice intoned with foreboding.
“Wha’ ?”
“The voces in the shadows boy”,the knight sighed, “It may be the Ebon Flame that started it, it may not, that is neither here nor there, they are using the black magic, I feel it. They are coming and we are not ready. The list is long, and judging by the missive you received from Jessup, the Masks have returned as well.”
Johe contemplated this, his eyes smoldering. The list WAS long, there had been far too much discussion, and not near enough action. If the Ebon Flame was coming… HE shuddered at the thought… Lady Eratia’s fate could be Cora’s…
The snake of fear wriggled gleefully in the guyvers gut as the paladin continued.
“Our failure has condemned all you care for in Vives, unless…”
The old man paused thoughtfully.
“’nless wut mista Raff?”, The guyver grabbed onto the possibility in the old knights words with a desperate hope. The venerable paladin took a deep breath.
“Unless we give the Ebon Flame what they want…” he paused again, ”… us”
The guyver nodded slowly, chewing on his cheek thoughtfully. If the old man was right, (and deep down, he knew he was), then it was the only chance, and he knew where they would be. The only place that would make sense. He sat for a long moment in silence, fondling the hilts of his blades. With a sigh he reached for a clean piece of parchment, and began to write.
My Cora
I…
The ink blot began to grow on the parchment as he stopped with the realization that he had no idea how to tell her. He cleared his throat, and steeled himself to continue…
I luvs ya an awlways will, but I gotsta go keep a promise, if’n I can, I’ll cum back. Tell Jubei an’ Tomi ta take cae uf tha guyvers
Luv Johe
He looked at the parchment with a slight look of dissapointment. He had never been much good with words. He wished he could do something to let her know…
He smiled slightly as a thought drifted into his mind. He stood and walked quickly out of the apartment. It fell silent as his footfalls faded slowly. Only the crackling of the fire remained, telling tales of fond memories too numerous to count in its clicking dialect.
A while later, the guyver returned, placing a small bunch of purple flowers bound together by a wedding ring on the desk with the reverence of an acolyte placing an offering on an alter. He stood for a moment and looked at the offering through a lens of tears, then turned, and walked away with a soft sigh.
The basement of the Four Winds Inn was quiet as a black clad guyver stepped quietly down the stairs, and reached to open the door to the room where he had appeared so long ago. An unexpected sigh of relief escaped his lips as he opened the door to reveal the swirling vortex of colors within. He had tried to do so much here in Vives, so much that was beyond a small halfling. But now, finally, he could do what he was made to do. He could do something that might make them proud, finally. Macha, Byron, Claudia, Balthor, Eliana, yes even that self righteous white lady. He smirked as he stepped into the room and drew his blades with the flourish of a jugglers finale.
“I’m gonna miss ‘em mista Raff”, he said with a whispered smile.
“Aye lad”, the old man replied simply.
“But in tha end I reckon no matta wut ya wish ya wus, ya’ll awlways be wut ya is.”
“Yes my boy”
The guyver took one last look around the room, gripped his blades with white knuckled determination and stepped into the whirling magic with a whispered
“g’bye”
If anyone had been listening at the door, they may have heard the sound of metal striking metal, and a young guyver shouting with a laugh…
“Ha! Tha’s gonna leave a scar!”
As the vortex faded away. |
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Farewell
Posted: 03 Jan 2006 05:51 PM |
Elle Placebo looked at the note on the door of the guyver store for a long, thoughtful moment, then turned away walking slowly down the alley. She had always kind of liked the little fellow. It seemed, from what she had heard, that he had either bitten off more than he could chew, or that he had simply ran away. From her conversations with the diminutive guyver, however, she knew the latter could not be true. She smiled a sad smile as she walked down the path back to Buckshire, strumming her lyre, and humming softly.
A large ox pulled a cart past her, the dwarf driving the cart muttering something about cheap musicians not wanting to pay for a ride. She smiled at him gently and began to sing...
These mist covered mountains
Are a home now for me
But my home is the lowlands
And always will be
Some day you’ll return to
Your valleys and your farms
And you’ll no longer burn
To be brothers in arms
Through these fields of destruction
Baptisms of fire
I’ve witnessed your suffering
As the battles raged higher
And though they did hurt me so bad
In the fear and alarm
You did not desert me
My brothers in arms
There’s so many different worlds
So many differents suns
And we have just one world
But we live in different ones
Now the sun’s gone to hell
And the moon’s riding high
Let me bid you farewell
Every man has to die
But it’s written in the starlight
And every line on your palm
We’re fools to make war
On our brothers in arms
(( Dire Straits ))
(( It's been a blast folks have fun storming the castleI may stop by and see how yer doin' from time to time )) |
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Dwarves don't like Goodbyes
Posted: 03 Jan 2006 06:23 PM |
(( Arrr... it's been fun man. I hate to see you go, but I suppose there comes a time for us all. Since i've been at Vives i've really enjoyed all the return of the guyver posts, and the Rp Jubei has had with Johe. Best of wishes to you In RL, and hopefully sometime down the road you find some time to Vive yet again. ))
(( Peace and God bless,
Lord Somethingoranother
aka Sammy )) |
-Jubei Murasame/ Dwarven Fighter
-Date Masamune/ Half-elf Monk
-Jago Muramasa/ Eleven Rogue
-Musashi Miyamoto/ Human Samurai
"Arrrr..... and more Arrrrrrrrrrr" |
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Re: Farewell
Posted: 03 Jan 2006 06:26 PM |
Daimon walked past the Door to the the Guyver's hall, head tilted slightly, allowing the rain to collect and stream off of his large black hat. Smiling, he buttoned the surcoat around his waist, to keep the cold and rain out, tapped a rapier hilt on his belt with a thumb absently, and whistled the first three haunting notes of a song named "Money for Nothin'"
(( OOC - Good luck, man, it's been great. Thanks for all the good times, the crazy 80's references, the music talks, the guyverin' together... working for me... working beside me, working... uhh beyond me... me working for you... *mutters*. The good stories, the laughs, the dangers, the accents. The women, the bloodsuckers, oh, and the vampires too *wink*. The never ending supply of malar pelts.
Cheers,
P.S.)Congratulations with the marriage, but don't let it stop your career as a Rock Star!)) |
The Legacy Saga |
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Re: Farewell
Posted: 03 Jan 2006 10:55 PM |
| ((Gonna miss ya mate... though Sir Lothar might not...)) |
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Re: Farewell
Posted: 03 Jan 2006 11:58 PM |
| [ Balthor's gonna need a new best friend... ] |
- [Rob], Balthor, Jake, and Thomas. |
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Re: Farewell
Posted: 04 Jan 2006 09:44 AM |
| ((You'll be missed! Congratulations, and may all your dreams come true.)) |
Trishy
Macha Sparrowsong - Song is my life
Coretta Alandar - Cleric of Midoran
Dekla Debena - whatever
Not all people who wander are lost.
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Re: Farewell
Posted: 04 Jan 2006 10:03 AM |
| ((and who is Lucifer going to preach to?)) |
Purpose in life: finding better ways of allowing players to kill themselves. Repeatedly.
--
"...Cause he mixes it with love
And makes the world taste good."
--
<@James42> Lawful good isn't in your vocabulary, it's on your menu.
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Re: Farewell
Posted: 04 Jan 2006 12:59 PM |
[ Balthor's gonna need a new best friend... ]
((and Cora needs a new... ahem, never mind. ;P her life will actually be a lot easier now that he isn't around to torment her... though, quite a bit more boring too.  As for the player Johe Jaxon... you already know how I feel about all this, but I felt I just had to say -something- in this thread, or everyone might start to think I was a calloused unfeeling jerk to have spent so much IG time interacting with your character and having some of the best RP moments since I've been playing this game, and then say nothing at all about you leaving. So...
Bum-ba-deeda bum-ba-deeda bum-ba-deeda bum-ba-deeda (continued throughout)
Happy trails to you
Until we meet again
Happy trails to you
Keep smilin' until then
Who cares about the clouds when we're together
Just sing a song and think 'bout sunny weather
Happy trails to you
'Til we meet again
(Van Halen (originally penned by Dale Evans))
*grins*
Seriously though, it has been a blast. Take care man.)) |
"I'm not closed-minded, you're just WRONG." - Bucky Katt
My characters n portraits |
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Re: Farewell
Posted: 04 Jan 2006 01:36 PM |
((Just to say, I have had a LOT of fun RPing with, and DMing for you. You will be sorely missed, good luck with the wedding, may it bring you all the happiness and none of the bruises my own marriage entails! Always been a pleasure man, hope our paths cross again...
Sean)) |
'The bond that links your true family is not one of blood, but of respect and joy in each other's life. Rarely do members of one family grow up under the same roof.' - Richard Bach, Illusions. |
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Re: Farewell
Posted: 04 Jan 2006 01:38 PM |
| ((*gives Sirac a big thump for his comments*seriously though, we will miss you. Good luck with everything & take care of you & Mrs Jaxon )) |
- Solitaire, Wizard
- Ilyana Fiirhaart, High Priestess of Naruth |
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Re: Farewell
Posted: 04 Jan 2006 04:20 PM |
Well bud...its been a blast. Well have to get together one day and finally pull that caper. Ill try and deal with the Masks as best I can without ya. Though it wont be easy or the same. Good luck to you in RL and everything else. Been an honor to play with ya! Take care!
Chief |
ONWARD AND UPWARD! |
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