Guild Versaile
Posted: Sun Jun 22, 2008 1:51 am
Guild: Versaile
Name: Hazel
Gender: Female
Class: Medic
Age: 26
Name: Fyodor
Gender: Male
Class: Gunner
Age: 25
Name: Zel
Gender: Male
Class: Landsknecht
Age: 22
Name: Albion
Gender: Male
Class: Protector
Age: 19
Name: Reika
Gender: Female
Class: Ronin
Age: 17
After the First Task
___________________________________
Soothing warmth seeped from the glossy clay of the mug as she took it. Hazel looked up and smiled, nodding her head in polite thanks. She stared down at the wavering reflection on the smooth surface of the tea. Tawny locks clumped awkwardly on one side of her face, still sticky from dried blood, but otherwise she looked unchanged. How strange to think she'd come close to dying that day.
The plump innkeeper continued unloading her tray, presenting each of her comrades in turn with mugs and larger steins. Zel eagerly gulped, a thin stream of foamy ale leaking out and down onto the table from his greedy mouth.
"Ahh!" He slammed the empty mud down. "Nothin' like wetting your chops after adventurin'!"
He jammed his elbow into the men on either side of him, nearly knocking Fyodor's gun to the floor. The Gunner gripped the weapon and scooted further along the bench. On his other side, Albion clutched his cup like a life line until his knuckles whitened. The young Protector seemed half as wide without his bulk of steel.
"Must you?" Reika sneered. She sat stiffly further down the table, her blade across her lap as she sharpened it.
"You'd be a bit less scared, missy, if you learned to unwind," Zel shot back.
Hazel closed her eyes and fought for calm. The two had been bickering ever since they met. If both weren't such good fighters, Hazel would have requested a transfer.
Reika's cheeks burned pink. "If you showed more discipline Fyodor and Albion wouldn't have to carry Hazel out the Labyrinth every time we go in!"
"Your left flank's been wide open all day. Albion's thick skull's been taking blows for you so much I'm surprised the boy isn't face-down gurgling on table."
"If you could aim once in a while--"
"Give it a rest." Fyodor set his gleaming weapon on the table.
They ignored him however, voices escalating wildly as Zel called for another round. Reika started in with a detailed critique of the Landsknecht's battle stance, the fabric of her sleeves cutting through the air as she demonstrated. Trapped between them, Albion emptied his mug with a miserable look on his face. He glanced up and, seeing Hazel's gaze, quickly looked away.
The Protector abruptly stood. The motion distracted Zel away from a bawdy drinking song he'd been trying to drown out Reika's lecture with. "Rest up, kid." He gave the boy a hearty pat across the shoulders.
Albion turned and trudged up the stairs with a mumbled "night" to the room at large.
Hazel moved her mug out of the way as Fyodor spread out their map on the table. Their accomplishments of the day seemed so insignificant when she considered the magnitude of the Labyrinth. Her small, square handwriting battled with the Gunner's sloping scrawl for room in the margins. He must have filled in the map after she collapsed.
"Don't look so discouraged," Fyodor told her. "It's only the first day."
Name: Hazel
Gender: Female
Class: Medic
Age: 26
Name: Fyodor
Gender: Male
Class: Gunner
Age: 25
Name: Zel
Gender: Male
Class: Landsknecht
Age: 22
Name: Albion
Gender: Male
Class: Protector
Age: 19
Name: Reika
Gender: Female
Class: Ronin
Age: 17
After the First Task
___________________________________
Soothing warmth seeped from the glossy clay of the mug as she took it. Hazel looked up and smiled, nodding her head in polite thanks. She stared down at the wavering reflection on the smooth surface of the tea. Tawny locks clumped awkwardly on one side of her face, still sticky from dried blood, but otherwise she looked unchanged. How strange to think she'd come close to dying that day.
The plump innkeeper continued unloading her tray, presenting each of her comrades in turn with mugs and larger steins. Zel eagerly gulped, a thin stream of foamy ale leaking out and down onto the table from his greedy mouth.
"Ahh!" He slammed the empty mud down. "Nothin' like wetting your chops after adventurin'!"
He jammed his elbow into the men on either side of him, nearly knocking Fyodor's gun to the floor. The Gunner gripped the weapon and scooted further along the bench. On his other side, Albion clutched his cup like a life line until his knuckles whitened. The young Protector seemed half as wide without his bulk of steel.
"Must you?" Reika sneered. She sat stiffly further down the table, her blade across her lap as she sharpened it.
"You'd be a bit less scared, missy, if you learned to unwind," Zel shot back.
Hazel closed her eyes and fought for calm. The two had been bickering ever since they met. If both weren't such good fighters, Hazel would have requested a transfer.
Reika's cheeks burned pink. "If you showed more discipline Fyodor and Albion wouldn't have to carry Hazel out the Labyrinth every time we go in!"
"Your left flank's been wide open all day. Albion's thick skull's been taking blows for you so much I'm surprised the boy isn't face-down gurgling on table."
"If you could aim once in a while--"
"Give it a rest." Fyodor set his gleaming weapon on the table.
They ignored him however, voices escalating wildly as Zel called for another round. Reika started in with a detailed critique of the Landsknecht's battle stance, the fabric of her sleeves cutting through the air as she demonstrated. Trapped between them, Albion emptied his mug with a miserable look on his face. He glanced up and, seeing Hazel's gaze, quickly looked away.
The Protector abruptly stood. The motion distracted Zel away from a bawdy drinking song he'd been trying to drown out Reika's lecture with. "Rest up, kid." He gave the boy a hearty pat across the shoulders.
Albion turned and trudged up the stairs with a mumbled "night" to the room at large.
Hazel moved her mug out of the way as Fyodor spread out their map on the table. Their accomplishments of the day seemed so insignificant when she considered the magnitude of the Labyrinth. Her small, square handwriting battled with the Gunner's sloping scrawl for room in the margins. He must have filled in the map after she collapsed.
"Don't look so discouraged," Fyodor told her. "It's only the first day."