Waking up.

[Sylexis]

I was dreaming, or perhaps I was awake; the familiar scent of burning incense stirred my senses long before I recognized the comfort of soft wool sheets and feather down pillows. A thought came to mind of rolling over, and asking for another moment of rest, like a child the morning of training or the lazy haze of a rainy day.

As much as I wish for such, I knew it wasn’t an option; I never have wasted time, too much to do. A thought entreated my mind as I lay there with my eyes closed. Why did I never roll over and partake in the last vestiges of sleep?

A cold chill crept up my spine as I finally opened my eyes, weakly eyeing the room. I did not know where I was.

An inn room, or so it looked, was before me. A tapestry depicting two Halflings playing sport in a field hung to my left, several dressers and chests and a small oak table decorated the room. Two torch lights hung on the walls opposing sides of the small fireplace in the far corner; incense burned low on the table next to a covered plate I could only assume held food, and a pitcher of drink, beads of condensation dripped from the pottery. I suddenly felt parched.

Sitting up, I instantly found as a mistake; the room swam with bright colors and I quickly settled back into the bed, taking stock of any injuries mentally before attempting to move again.

Bandaged ribs, at least one broken, wrapped burns on my hands, but all generally on the mend, where in the nine hells had I been? Or was for that matter; those thoughts quickly subsided as the thought of drink took hold again.

“Oh, so you finally woke up!” A sturdy dwarven female filled the doorway.

Stubble of a slight beard covered the rosy cheeks of the short woman; she carried a tray of bandages and a small pouch that she could smell to be a strong salve clear across the room.

Moving into the room she set the bandages and salve down, “Half a moon cycle an’ not a stir, we was beginnin’ to wonder if’in you were ever gonna wake up!”

“How long have I been out?” My voice cracked dryly in reply as I settled carefully against the headboard, studying my apparent nurse carefully.

“Oh nearly a half moon cycle, we were wonderin’ if you were gonna sleep for ever!” She responded cheerily moving over to the table and bringing the covered plate and a mug of water. “There ya go.” Setting the plate before me and handing me the mug. I drank deeply as she continued.

“Been about two weeks, was rainin’ something awful when you came stumbling in mostly dead and mumbling like a banshee, scared half the patrons ya did.” She adjusted the covers a bit and leaned back on her heels. “You eat up, I’ll be back inn’a bit to clean up yer bandages, but you eat up and we can talk later.” She nodded as if satisfied of her response and turned back out the door.

This was interesting.

Uncovering the tray revealed a warm bowl of vegetable hash, a loaf of bread, and greasy chicken leg; my stomach rumbled, quickly beginning to devour the food. How did I manage to get here? What fight did I toss myself into now? Thinking back a moment, no memories came to mind, it must have been something.

Another chill traced up her spine as another notion became apparent. She didn’t remember anything before that either.

[ColbyWolf]

So.. why havn't you continued this yet? :) I liek what I see.. Sweet, simple.. and filled with al lthe delightful details that truely brings a story to life. :)

Tomorrow morning, I'm going to roll over and get 5 more minutes for her. :)

...and why am I the only one to respond to this? this is wonderful...

[Domore]

I think this is a very good start for a story, I look forward to the next installment.

Dom

[Rine]

dont leave us hanging, this is starting out great

[Sylexis]

(( Goodness *blushes* I wasn't expecting a response, just a beginning to a character with no knowledge to the ddo world whatsoever... buuut I will see what I can whip up 8) ))

[cdbd3rd]

Yes, yes, you do that, you bring whip, do up. Make do good more, yes.
:)

[Sylexis]

A full stomach and quenched thirst later, Sylexis sat in the bed as the woman redid the bandages on her forearms and hands. The dwarven cleric made small talk concerning Sylexis’ history but did not prod beyond the vague responses. “Oy, you might have just been up n’ around some fire elementals, grapplin’ with large movin’ fire spirits don’t work so well lass.” The woman talked as she worked the salve carefully into the wounds and rewrapped them.

“Indeed, albeit I am sure the other creature is worse off than I.” Sylexis responded nonchalantly, in truth she had no idea what she had been fighting.

“So I been meaning to ask ye name so I do not keep just callin’ ya lass.”

“Sylexis.” She responded instinctively before blinking and steeling her movements carefully; she was not altogether certain she had responded correctly.

“Well Miss Sylexis,” The woman nodded, not noticing the subtle change or choosing to ignore it.” You just about patched up and I’m sure you’ll want to get home to yer family; I bet there is a handsome man just waiting sick with worry for his pretty lady.

I couldn’t help but smile, it only faded slightly when no pang struck; no, a knowing feeling if nothing else, no one waited. Interesting, but could as easily mean nothing, maybe there was a family.

“Well, I’d sure like ta hear of your travels more Miss but I dun wanna push, I’ll let you alone ta get dressed and rested dear but come down and say farewell before you go.”

The sturdy woman collected her things and shuffled out the door as Sylexis watched her go, a mix of emotions between wondering what child the dwarven woman had lost to make her protective of any moderately young looking patron to stumble in, and what disastrous plot waited when she left the room.

So my name is Sylexis… it could be, or an alias instinctively responded to while on a mission, she argued her thoughts between pessimistic options and optimistic opportunities. She tossed back the covers still contemplating as she focused on what she assumed were her belongings tucked cleanly on the only chair in the room.

A pack with various potions and oddities, a small satchel of prayer beads she had obviously kept for some reason, dark studded leather armor and a pair of ornate if not simple daggers and a small club. A fine maroon cloak folded neatly beneath the pack completed the outfit.

Sylexis dressed silently, letting her eyes wander over the walls and settings in the room once more, a light draft from a poorly set window sill hidden on the far side of the small crackling fireplace. Surprising to her was the ability to slide into her armor without any thought; though warn the armament fit her perfectly. She tightened the knots of the bandages along her palm and forearm and slid her gloves up her arms and laced them deftly.

Letting her hands do their mysterious work again she tied her hair from her face, checking the outfit in a small looking glass on the table. That cleric seemed to think of everything.

Soft red hair set off deep green eyes to almost sparkling. A pristine face marred only by a single scar; still soft and pink a direct single claw mark vertically down her face. Nothing struck a cord, no memories of the wound or the expression reminded her of a thing. Perhaps it would take more time.

“Ahh well.” Speaking out loud to no one in particular she tossed the cloak over her shoulders and buttoned it in place. It fell just right to hide the steel hilts of the daggers.

Stomping into her boots slightly she lifted the latch on the door and stepped out cautiously.

Here goes nothing…

[cdbd3rd]

"Ah! Yes, yes, is good do she do, aye?"

*SMACK!*

"Down with ye, toad. The lady has no need to hear your simpering. Get on with ye!"

*Scamper, whine*

"My apologies dear lady."

*Removing a fine feather-adorned cap, the rogue bows eloquently at the waist.*

"Clarence de Beau the Third, Buckler of Swash, at your service. Yon toad shall bother ye no further. Whiny and mischievous he may be, but harmless nonetheless. Pray continue at ye're leisure. We await your indulgence."

*He reseats himself, a small smile playing across his lips, and a touch of his own mischievousness hinted in his eyes. Pulling aside his burgundy cloak as he sits reveals an ornately pommeled rapier at his side. With a final warning glance at the small creature cowering in the corner, CdBd3rd leans back in his chair waiting patiently for the tale to continue.*

;)

[Sylexis]

Perhaps I was just paranoid, it was indeed a tavern, the surly dwarven woman that had nursed my wounds spoke cheerily to a gruff and similarly dressed dwarf behind the bar as I stepped down the stairway, offering me a quick smile.

“Oy, leaving us already?” The woman asked, her smile only faltering slightly.

“Aye I am afraid I must.” Feeling slightly edgy, and not wanting to be around people who might catch onto my predicament, showing signs of weakness was not a good thing. Setting down a few platinum coins (a coin purse among a few other items I found in the pack), I winked to the woman. “Must be getting home to that handsome man of mine” I lied. The result however was worth it as her eyes lit up.

Just as well to not come back, whatever had caused her to lose her memory, likely thought she was dead, and until she could figure out what or who, not having rumors of her likeness around…. Around wherever she was, would be best off.

Sylexis shouldered the door to the tavern and stepped out into the morning light.

[cdbd3rd]

The rogue shifts in his chair to lean his elbow on the table next to him. His other hand smooths his mustache before reaching out for his tankard again. He silently nods encouragement, his interest and curiosity waiting for the next stage of the tale.

[Sylexis]

(( Written it, just need to type it out, likely Monday)

[cdbd3rd]

Clarence de Beau shifts his weight to the other cheek as he runs his finger around the rim of his empty tankard. A sudden clamor at the door grabs his attention - a small group of grimy blood-spattered adventurer tumble through the door shouting about dragons, complaining about the strange flaws in their equipment, and wildly sheathing and redrawing their weapons. One grizzled dwarf's voice cuts through the din, "Ayem, and we'da surely had the beast, lads, if'n weren't for that mighty hand that as struck us back to 'ere, eh? Damned rotted shame it is, and assuredly so." The adventurers gather around a table and are soon lamenting into their cups.

The rogue turns his attention back to the tale. A raised eyebrow, and the hint of a grin are the only hints of his thoughts. 'A dragon now, is it? In due time, in due time.'

A nod to the wench brings his refill. After sending her along her way with a generous tip, and well-placed smack on her shapely posterior, the playful rogue readjusts his balance and props a boot on the empty chair next to him.

[cdbd3rd]

As his last tankard hits the table with an empty thud, Clarence de Beau stifles a yawn as he sets his chair down. Chuckling quietly at the napping bard, the rogue nods his respects to the few other patrons gathered in the small common room. "Adieu, my friends. Tomorrow shall break the horizon soon, and I must see to the proper plumping of my pillow 'ere it arrives." With a final wink to the barmaid, he makes his way up the stairs to his private room.

[cdbd3rd]

The rogue, rising from his sleep, first notices nothing but the deathly stillness of the inn. As he pulls his feet from the covers, the criss-cross of spider anchor-strands draws his attention to his covers, and indeed to the room around him. Immediately suspicious, and more than a little confused, he silently slips his feet into his boots, and draws on his cape and weapons. He finishes by pulling his feathered hat from its rest on the bedpost. He brushes the wisps of silk strands from his clothing and cap, before donning it and moving to the door.

Down the hallway, and descending the stairs, his fears are realized as he notices the common room both silent and deserted. He moves a sheet of spider webbing from his view, and takes the last few steps into the room. The room shows no sign of violence, the bard's chair still sitting exactly where it was as the bard had dozed in it seemingly only a few hours ago.

A look around the room left him no doubt that much more than a few hours had passed, however. The dusty tables, the loose webbing hanging in tatters around the room, the build of dirt on the small windows that blocked his view of the outside. His blade slides quietly from its scabbard as he takes the few steps towards the door. Just before reaching for the latch, he notices a poster hanging on the center post of the room.

Turning to brush the dust from the face of the poster, the rogue's eyebrows raise in alarm as the drawing of a hideous looking creature adorns it's center. Roughly humanoid in shape, the face couldn't be more non-human, with the collection of tentacles surrounding it's mouth area. Clarence squints to make out the lettering, and the rest of the drawing. The picture shows a small band of adventurers in combat with the vile creature. Looking closer, the rogue meets yet another surprise as among the adventurers fights what can only be one of the dark folk. An elf from the lower realms? Here, alongside the normal folk of the territory? The small type is blurred, and he cannot make out much except for the plea for help to stand against the latest threat to the frontier realm.

With a final look around the deserted room, Clarence de Beau shakes his head knowing the answer to this mystery does not reside here. He speaks aloud to the emptiness, "Alas, my friends. Where e'er your paths have led ye, I bid thee all the luck allowed ye." He turns to leave when a scuffling under the bar brings his guard around. The little impish creature that had been following him for months shakes off his layer of dust, and jumps towards the doorway. "We go now, yes? We have good sleep, ready to go?"

Chuckling to himself, the rogue answers patiently, "Aye, urchin, we have seemingly had quite a good sleep. Off we go." He pushes the door open and follows his little impish friend out into the morning sun.

[Harbingers]

Keep it up! Looking forward to reading more!!!!

[cdbd3rd]

Keep it up! Looking forward to reading more!!!!

Heh-heh... Well, Sylexis disappeared back in June. The story kinda fizzled after that. :(
Is nice to see someone found this back on the corner shelf even with 2 months worth of dust on it. LOL :D

[Telthasir]

Out of the early morning fog the soft sounds of booted footsteps can be heard as the door to the inn opens and a cowled figure in dented and blood spattered armor strides through the door. Scanning the room intently the stranger walks to a table and sits down adjusting his sword belt so the hilts of his weapons are easily reached. In a low but slightly musical voice he calls to the waitress and orders a goblet of the houses finest wine. Propping a shield marked with a crest of an eagle with a bolt of lightning in its beak against the chair next to him he again surveys the room with disturbing lavender eyes peaking from underneath the cowl of his cloak.

[cdbd3rd]

Out of the early morning fog the soft sounds of booted footsteps can be heard as the door to the inn opens and a cowled figure in dented and blood spattered armor strides through the door. Scanning the room intently the stranger walks to a table and sits down adjusting his sword belt so the hilts of his weapons are easily reached. In a low but slightly musical voice he calls to the waitress and orders a goblet of the houses finest wine. Propping a shield marked with a crest of an eagle with a bolt of lightning in its beak against the chair next to him he again surveys the room with disturbing lavender eyes peaking from underneath the cowl of his cloak.

Many months later, the door again moves on its rusted hinges. The creak of their complaint echoes through the empty tavern hall. The figure silhouetted in the door frame pauses to look around the dusty room. Breathing out a heavy sigh, he comments quietly to the emptiness, "Ah, Sylexis. I know not where yur travels took ye, but tis my hope thy road carries ye safe."
Before turning to leave, the rogue strolls across the room to where the bard had sat weaving her tale. Revealing a small meadow flower he had had cupped in his hand, he lays it gently on the chair. Stepping back, his cap rolls down over his arm as he bows to the memory before him. He barely whispers, "Merry did we meet, and merry did we part. Until we meet again, m'lady. Adieu."
Flipping his cap back into place, the rogue turns to leave. He does not look back as the door closes behind him, and the echoes of his boot steps fade to silence.

:(

[The_Saint]

Many months later, the door again moves on its rusted hinges. The creak of their complaint echoes through the empty tavern hall. The figure silhouetted in the door frame pauses to look around the dusty room. Breathing out a heavy sigh, he comments quietly to the emptiness, "Ah, Sylexis. I know not where yur travels took ye, but tis my hope thy road carries ye safe."
Before turning to leave, the rogue strolls across the room to where the bard had sat weaving her tale. Revealing a small meadow flower he had had cupped in his hand, he lays it gently on the chair. Stepping back, his cap rolls down over his arm as he bows to the memory before him. He barely whispers, "Merry did we meet, and merry did we part. Until we meet again, m'lady. Adieu."
Flipping his cap back into place, the rogue turns to leave. He does not look back as the door closes behind him, and the echoes of his boot steps fade to silence.

:(<camera pans around the tavern as the foppish rogue makes his departure> Shadows stir in the corner as the light dances onto the brow of a dark skinned man with angular features. "Twenty-six weeks of courting and that man still cannot attract the wiles of a lady?"
Turning to the lone figure at the table he drops a coin and a card on his table, " I may be calling on your services, who knows what mischief that self proclaimed Buckler of Swashes will get into now?"
When the warrior turns to greet the last remaining patron of the tavern he watches him stride into the bustlling throng of the city. With a "hurumph" he looks at the coin made of silver and turns over the card. " I AM CROWLEY" is all that is says?

[The_Saint]

There are mornings that my joints scream like the hounds of the abyss have pummeled my body through the night. “How the rogue can drink that swill that is offered in these, these hovels of sin I’ll never understand?”
I am grateful, as I pull the hole riddled cloth off my body that has served as a blanket the previous night, that the rain will keep him out of the wild.
Not that his choice of entertainment last night would have made any difference to the sun. The moon on the other hand witnessed him entering that sewer grate out on the road. “Troglodyte infestation huh?” There were more troglodytes in the tavern after we cleansed that hole in the ground. No one had mentioned the giant moving rocks that busted a hole in his hide.
I wonder when he will realize that I have been shadowing his exploits and curing his ailments while he lurks in the dredges of the city?
I wonder if he will still harbor those ill feelings towards the “dark folk” when the realization comes? I wonder if I will have to bury him and find a new cut-purse to feed my coffers?

[steelblade]

as above


.....shes wrighting a book sires and she leaves it hanging:mad: :( :o