Atlantic Roleplay Community Boards

[Xana]

---

After finally sleeping off the effects of the bizarre dream, Xana woke up feeling groggy but incredibly refreshed sometime well after the noon hour. For a little while she lay abed and allowed herself to think; her mind covered many topics ranging from the dream to the state of her life to the coming winter.

The small silver call bell by the door of the rented room soon summoned one of the innkeeper's assistants, who was happy to bring Xana a cup of hot chocolate and plain toasted bread. As she broke her fast, Xana decided it would be a good day for a ride out to one of her favorite places. It had been weeks since she had visited Delucia and its surrounding countryside.

Unfortunately, she also decided that a couple of sips from the strong narcotic potion-of-the-week would enhance her experience. The drug was consumed after Xana finished dressing and writing a brief note to a cousin she'd run into recently after years without contact. En route to the stable, she posted the letter with the innkeeper and the matter was forgotten.

With a leg up from the stable master, Xana found herself astride her horse. The day was sunny and bright with a slight warming southern wind, the sort of day in late fall that makes one realize how soon the cold days would be coming and how the warmth would be missed in those cold months.

Intoxicated and euphoric, Xana gated herself to Delucia and stocked up on the things one needs when spending a day out in the wilds. She rode east, the horse at a pleasing fast trot.

It could not have been more than twenty minutes out of town that an ostard charged out of the woods, without warning. The animal took both horse and rider off guard. The horse whinnied and reared as it skidded to a halt, dumping Xana unceremoniously onto the roadside gravel. The horse and the ostard ran off together, the angry sounds they made indicating that a fight was soon to come.

Cursing loudly, Xana got to her feet and began dusting herself off. Her curses grew louder as she realized that her brand new riding habit sustained a large tear that gave the impression it would be impossible to mend without looking tattered.

As she leaned to flick a bit of vegetation from her leg, the dizziness overcame Xana and she felt faint. Though she remained conscious, she fell forward and slightly to the right--her weak side.

When the tendon in the right ankle gave way, the snapping sound was sickening. Sound and pain combined to nauseate the fallen rider. Xana laid on her side, trying to breathe steadily as the awful screeching and stomping just over the small rise added to the sickened feeling. Indeed, the animals were fighting.

Time seemed to turn into a foreign thing. It seemed to pass with both an impossible quickness and an unbelievable slowness.

On some level, she realized that her horse must have won the fight; the ostard fell suddenly silent after a final horrendous screech, and the sound of hooves thundering away bore evidence that the angry equine had triumphed. Xana was glad the horse was alive, but dismayed that it decided to run off and not come back.

When she struggled to her feet, it was quickly evident that she would not be walking to town for aid. Panic began to set in, and she carefully sat down. Her head was beginning to throb and the sun was heading into its early autumn descent. She had absolutely no provisions; they were gone with the horse, the pack strapped firmly to its withers.

Frustrated and frightened, she sat and sat, hoping for a passing hunter or courier who never came. On several occasions she called out, receiving no answer beyond the simple sounds of nature.

Night was getting nearer. The insulted foot with such a long history of injuries swelled and throbbed, and the many little scratches from the gravel began to itch. Overwhelmed, Xana began to cry. She cried and cursed and cried some more, and somehow--inexplicably--she cried herself to sleep as would a child.

Sometime later, the sun gone but its light still evident in a beautiful violet twilight, Xana woke to the gentle but firm touch of a hand against her shoulder. A young man with beautiful red hair knelt beside her and it seemed he was asking her what happened.

In the end, it seemed that it wasn't too much to ask, that the gods grace her with a passing person who might help her. The young man identified himself as Aegis, and he used his healing powers to fix her up the best he could. He insisted on getting her home, and when asked where home was, the name she gave was "Minoc," though she hadn't lived there since her teen years. Aegis said he knew it well, and would take her there right away.

Leaning on the dapper young man, Xana stepped through the portal he made. Immediately the pair was swarmed with the gypsies who were not off a caravan for winter supplies. Questions were hurled at the young man faster than he was able to answer. Once the family realized he had assisted Xana during a potentially threatening situation, they insisted that he stay for a meal and some rest. As was their nature, they wouldn't accept "No" for an answer.

Aegis was welcomed to the fire that night as one of their own. Everybody chattered about what could have happened, and praised Aegis and his heroism. The younger girls giggled at his protests, with him saying he only acted in the way any person should. Xana sat quietly, enjoying the hot soup that was brought to her and seemingly unaware of the conversations in general.

However, she did notice the intent look at which maman Sabine watched the young man.
_________________
An artist is a creature driven by demons ~Faulkner

[Lord Fong]

---

An orange glow began to break through the tree tops as the early morning sun was just beginning its daily journey. Aegis moved slowly that morning, taking in every detail of the forest around him. A somber expression seemed almost stitched to his face. Yet, a sparkle in his baby blue eyes, yes his heart was full of excitement; He was making his final journey into deluccia and soon would be on his way into the world.

As the tree line began to thin, Aegis found himself at a small pond. The perfect place for my devotional He thought. Sitting down, he crossed his legs and closed his eyes. A light breeze skimmed across the pond bringing a slight mist and the sweet taste of the cool water. Overhead a bright red Falcon danced in the smooth fall winds. Aegis leans over the pond, looking into his reflection he smiles brightly for the first time today.

The Falcon cries out before descending into the tree line. Alright, alright I’m coming… With a sigh Aegis gathered his things and left the clearing heading into the woods again. It only took all of Twenty minutes or so, but Aegis was lost. Bloody hell…where is that damn bird. I’ve seen this rock three times… Stopping, he climbed the rock, and removed a small whistle carved from stone. Aegis used the call a few times, listened….nothing… Rel Por He said sending himself several feet into the tree tops.

Now with a much better view Aegis noticed a clearing after a bit of climbing, so he set off through the trees. Many spells later he looked out over the road. Slowly he climbed down. Picking the leaves and stems from his clothes he noticed the Falcon perched on a stump. You are lucky I’m in such a good mood my friend.

Much time had been lost in the detour and the sun sat low on the horizon, its journey would soon come to an end for another nights rest. The falcon jumped from its stump and glided to rest on Aegis’s shoulder. Now on a path Aegis set to a quick jog, he needed to reach Deluccia; the Shamans were waiting to give their blessing at the gates. Aegis almost missed the girl on the side of the road, almost tripping to stop and turn around. The falcon flew off towards Deluccia, an irritated cry of protest; it circled then landed next Aegis. Well...we can’t bloody well leave her here can we? Ignoring the bird, Aegis whispered words of healing and touched her arm. Her eyes opened, smiling Aegis looked down at her. No worries love…I’m Aegis, Where do you live, I have helped you as much as I can here. Her reply simple Minoc

Stumbling into the camp the gypsy’s surrounded him; the questions came from all sides. Some he answered, others he didn’t, too many voices with too many questions. Soon things settled down, and a feast was set out before him. He was treated as the guest of honor. Why he could not be sure. The falcon circled overhead crying out in protest from time to time. No worries brother falcon…I will see the Shaman, but for now they will have to wait…I’m starting to like these people he thought to himself as he watched the girls dance.
_________________
It does not require a majority to prevail, but rather an irate, tireless minority keen to set brush fires in people's minds. - Samuel Adams