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Travel Without Fear; [Narina]
Topic Started: Apr 10 2009, 06:16 AM (807 Views)
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Morte was sitting atop a wagon, rented from an old friend of his, filled to the verge of collapse with large barrels. Each one was filled with a high quality ale of Morte's own concoction. He was the only man in this wagon, really the only man around. Quite a risky maneuver considering this areas reputation for swallowing up lone travelers, yet Morte had no fear.

He had recently been getting quite a bit of fame for his brews, with many people awaiting his next shipment with bated breath. He didnt fear traveling her because of a merchant code that he followed, "If you are ever attacked in an area, and live, Never sell to all in that Provence, as punishment to them." People knew he followed that code, and many were in love with his spirits to the brink of robbery, but knew it would be the last of Morte's brew they ever drink...

"WELLL..." Morte broke into song, a catchy tune about the life of a bootlegger, an alcohol brewer. If anyone was around to hear it, who knows, they might join in if they knew the words.
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A torn soul; without you I fall.
Drink had become her best friend once again. It was the only way she could really see straight and understand who she was; or at least pretend to know.

"Confused my ass." she said, her words slurred as she stumbled through the area, her wineskin firmly gripped in her hand. Her vision blurred and the woman shook her head violently, her silver hair falling out of place and giving her a more rugged look than normal. She had really sunk below what she once was. The daughter of the Admiral was now no more than a slave to her own awful ways; a murderer.

Swaggering further, the shapeshifter, leaned against one of the trees and looked about, a frown crossing her face. Not once had it occurred to her that these were the more dangerous parts of the North. She had almost completely given up on life and no longer cared what happened to herself or those around her.

A voice drifted through the still air and Narina lifted her once mighty head in the direction of the sound; frowning.

"Who the hell is out there!?" she shouted, moving once again towards the road she knew existed in front of her, a grin slowly crossing her face as she approached the clearing.

**OOC: Hope it's okay. **
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Morte continued hi song, but suddenly a voice shouted out, "Who the hell is out there?!" shouted a females voice. But were was the source? It sounded very close...

A woman suddenly drunkenly staggered into the middle of the road, right in front of the wagon. Morte's eyes widened and pulled hard on the horses' reins, causing the lumbering black beast to skid on the ground, almost headbutting the women, "By Halil's Will!" He cursed, controlling the horse in case it tried to rear up, for sure it would kick the woman in the face.

He stood up on the wagon and peered down, a woman, who looked like she'd been through a lot, stood out in front of the wagon. Her hair was in disarray and she gripped firmly onto a wineskin. She was drunk most likely, but didnt look to be in very good shape, though considering this area, still dangerous. Morte looked the woman over a second time and squatted down a bit, "Miss, what're you doing wandering around out her, are you alright?" Morte recalled an old story that caravaneers spoke of, an old robber trick. an injured or attractive woman waits along the side of the rode to wait for help while the rest of the men wait to ambush the crew. Morte looked around and rubbed his thumbs along his other fingers, if they tried anything...
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A torn soul; without you I fall.
Narina scrambled back in a hurried manner, toppling over and falling to the ground as the horse stopped within a few feet of her. Shock had taken over her body and adrenaline began to course through her veins. The dragon within raised its head and the woman's eyes flashed dangerously from their usual green colour to the deep red of her angered state of mind. She felt her mental instability take further control as she turned around on the ground and glared up at the man on the wagon. She wanted to take out her anger she felt on him... He'd be a perfect target, but she wasn't sure if she was stable enough to transform or even cast, let alone wield a weapon.

Narina let out a low laugh as she clambered to her feet and brushed the hair out of her still young face a sly look on her face at the words she heard the man speak. She looked the man over once, swaggering slightly more.
"What on earth does it matter to you? Not like you care... No one does anymore." she spoke with self hatred stinging in her voice before turning in her tracks and staring up at the sky in dismay.
"Do you know where the nearest town is?" she asked; her voice emotionless and cold.
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The woman fell backwards onto the ground, either very drunk, or very scared. Or more likely, a combination of the two. Damn be the gods if she is just a decoy, but she looked hurt at least. Morte swooped off of the wagon, placing his hand onto the horses back to land next to the drunken woman and knelled beside her.

"What on earth does it matter to you? Not like you care... No one does anymore." She said, fire in her voice. She was indeed hurt, but in what what, Morte did not know. He reached out and placed his hand on the woman's hand, "You shouldn't think that way, I care." Morte said, not fearing much of a dangerous reaction. If she was drunk, she would hardly be able to take a swing at him that wouldnt be easy to maneuver out of the way of...

Morte followed her gaze as she peered up into the stars, asking where the nearest town was. It worried him that she sounded so emotionless and cold, what had happened to her to make her so? Morte didn't want to think about it. "Bridgersville is not to far from here, I was headed there myself. If you want, you can lie in the back of my wagon and sober up, or stay drunk, I'll even give you a free refill of your wineskin there." Morte pushed himself to his feet and held out a hand, "How's about it?"
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A torn soul; without you I fall.
Narina bowed her head at his words, not sure whether she was willing to dare even trust. Suddenly a new part of her clicked and her face contorted into one of pain; emotional as though she was fighting a battle deep within her own mind when she felt this stranger place his hand over hers. She couldn't believe those words. No one cared for her in this world as far as she was concerned; they were all dead- her doing. She had let herself go from the well kept, neat and always polite young woman to this... this, well, she was finding it hard to even think of any way to describe herself; no words that came to mind were awful enough.

"Bridgersville..." she repeated quietly to herself, before pouring the remains of the alcohol in her wineskin onto the ground and turning around. Narina ignored the presence of the man for a moment and took the time to tidy herself as best she could, dragging her fingers through her long silver hair to straighten it till it hung down in a neat state as was her usual.
Narina slapped herself gently on the cheek and brought herself into as calm and rational a state as was possible.

Thinking back for a few seconds, the young woman brought the words that this stranger had spoken back into mind and considered them. In her state she was not going to be going anywhere far, and flying would no doubtably end up being like some sort of a suicide mission- down right dangerous. She could see as much.
He had offered her the opportunity to get into the town and she looked at the gentleman's hand for a short moment.

"I suppose I wouldn't mind the lift..." she said, taking his hand and hoisting herself to her feet; bowing her head rather shamefully. The dragon had peaked into her character and had lent some of its strength, helping her to seem more in control. "I shouldn't have been so rude..." she whispered, dropping her wineskin in the dirt, disgusted with it.
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Morte waited as the woman fixed herself up as best as she could, attempting to fix her hair and sober up. Of course, only time makes you sober.

She took his hand and Morte assisted her in pulling herself up, saddened to see that she felt shamed, by something. Her pain was causing Morte to think of dozens of reasons why, not many of them good, and none of them close to the truth. He led her over to the wagon and helped her into the back, where he moved a barrel up so that she had a place to sit, or lie down, whatever she would prefer.

He rested his hand on the woman's a second time, "Do not worry miss, you've been a lot more kind then most people would've, and a few would've drawn steel. My name is Morte by the way, Morte Rajin." He released her hand and returned to the front of the wagon, picking up the leather straps and whipped it, clicking his tongue twice. The horse sputtered and started pulling his load again, wishing that he'd had a long break.

Morte looked back occasionally to see how his hitchhiker was doing, and after some time had passed, he said, "If you dont mind me asking, What're you doing out here, at night, drunk and looking like you'd just sat through a hurricane?"
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A torn soul; without you I fall.
Narina welcomed the assistance, taking a seat next to the barrel, her back resting against it; murmuring a word of thanks. Narina kept her gaze averted from this person. She was not sure how she was meant to take his kindness.
The woman jumped slightly when she felt Morte's hand on top of hers once more and she looked towards him, her face holding no emotion what so ever as she listened as he spoke.

"Do not worry miss, you've been a lot more kind then most people would've, and a few would've drawn steel. My name is Morte by the way, Morte Rajin."

She knew that she would have drawn her own blade had she been in more control, or she would have even just gone ahead and transformed and ended it. She held her silence and after a while the horse was moving once more. Narina took the silence as a perfect opportunity to try and clear her mind of the out of order thoughts and memories that flashed before her eyes.

Morte's questions he asked passed into mind as he spoke them and Narina spent some time just processing them and considering her reply. The woman frowned slightly and shifted her seat. “I honestly don’t know. I suppose I’ve been just trying to get away from it all. I stuffed my life up…” The woman leaned her head back and let out a deep sigh. “Gosh… Have you ever felt like… you’ve made such a huge mistake that it’s cost you your freedom and even your sanity?” she questioned, completely discarding the knowledge that he was a complete stranger. She stared off blankly into the deep shadows of the surroundings.
Narina’s eyes widened as she remembered her manners and smiled, closing her eyes for a moment. “Forgive me. I seem to have forgotten all my manners as well… My name is Narina. It’s a pleasure to meet you… even under the circumstances. I’m really sorry you have to see me in this state.”
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Morte sat in silence as she spoke of something, her life was messed up, and whatever happened to her. “Gosh… Have you ever felt like… you’ve made such a huge mistake that it’s cost you your freedom and even your sanity?”

...

This question truly confused Morte, lost her freedom, her sanity? Was she caught up with a group of bad people? An abusive husband? By the god if that was the case Morte would... The horse sputtered and slowed down as it felt Morte's grasp tightened hard on the reins, Morte lightened his grasp and the horse returned to its regular speed.

"Narina, it is a pleasure to meet you as well, under any circumstance. As for your state that you are in, We'll just need to get you a bath when we reach town wont we?"
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The woman swayed slightly as the horse drawn cart slowly made its way along the road leading to Bridgersville. As she spoke, she noticed that the horse slowed down, and she looked across to where Morte was, her eyes narrowing for a moment; almost suspicious. It was part of her nature to be cautious; second nature. She wondered for a moment what was going on in his mind, but the thought passed by as quickly as it had first settled and she again stared into the shadows across from her.

"Narina, it is a pleasure to meet you as well, under any circumstance. As for your state that you are in, We'll just need to get you a bath when we reach town wont we?"

Narina let out a huff. He was making her feel childish and that only angered her, but she contained herself best she could. "Indeed." she replied coolly. She was now determined to show the sort of person she had once been; upright, neat, and overall polite. "I'll be paying though..." she started. "Money is one thing I'm not short of, though it may look it." Her voice became a murmur as she looked across and past the horse. "Do you usually take this path, if I may ask?"
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Morte heard her sigh angerly, was it something he said? Morte shrugged over the fact that she insisted that she pay, wasnt a problem for him. She asked him if he usually took this path. Morte leaned back and patted one of the barrels, "Narina, I travel the path of a merchant, i go were ever i am paid. Bridgersville's tavern was running low of supplies and most brewers are too busy with larger contracts, so it's good money."

Morte Smiled as he say in the distance a bridge, they were almost to the city now, "Just a little farther. What brought you out here Narina, if you dont mind me asking?"
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She listened as he spoke, explaining that he was a merchant and went where business was best. "Ah." she exclaimed nodding her head that was slowly beginning to pound with each movement of the cart. "Who doesn't enjoy money?" she murmured quietly.


"Just a little farther. What brought you out here Narina, if you don’t mind me asking?"

Narina let out a sigh of relief and smiled, nodding; she was pleased to finally be reaching civilization once more. She had never done well around people, but she supposed it was what she needed if she was to break her horrid habits she had gained over the years.

Sparing a moment's thought to why she was in the Crossing, Narina frowned slightly. "A whim perhaps. It's a dangerous area; I have a habit of looking for trouble, and when I wish not to, I find it. Ironic. It's as though I'm trying to run away from pain I’m in, both emotional and physical. Not that it matters. One grows used to these things over time." she answered, adding a small laugh; her earlier mood was beginning to clear.
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Morte listened as the wagon passed over the bridge, the clunking and clacking of the wheels going over the wooden planks sounded, calming.

Narina was a woman who looked for trouble, traveled on a whim. "So, when you dont look for trouble, you find it. Glad you were looking for trouble then, because you found me, and im no trouble at all." His hands tighened on the reins again, she was running away from something, someone who hurt her. He exhale and clicked his tongue, bringing the horse to a halt in front of the tavern. Men came out to remove the barrels, trying not to disturb the lady in the back.

Morte got off the wagon and walked over to her, holding ou a hand to help her off, "Well we're here, would you like to get something to eat, or clean up first?"
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She let out a short burst of laughter at the response and nodded in agreement. "Yeh, I have much to be grateful for this time; that I must say. It's not often that someone helps instead of just hurts."

The cart was brought to a halt and a number of men began to remove the barrels from it and move them into the tavern. Narina hoisted herself to the back of the wagon, taking Morte's hand he offered and jumped down, and letting go immediately as she listened to his request. "I need to make myself presentable. I don't think I can go the rest of the night looking like this. But allow me to at least buy you a drink in the mean while?" She said, offering a smile.
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Morte's heart warmed him as he heard Narina laugh, and saw her smile. "Nonsense, i just delivered a large shipment of alcohol to his tavern, the least they could do is offer me a free drink, though i'm sure they'll lend me a room instead if you'd like to gussy up." Morte said, before telling the men hauling the barrels to hurry up.

He led her into the tavern which was bare for the most part, a few people here and there but otherwise empty. No dought the reason why, they'd ran out of booze until Morte showed up. The tavern keeper walked over and shook Morte's hand, handing him his payment, "Is there anything i can do to repay you?" Morte paused for a moment, waiting for Narina's reply on if she wanted the room or not, though not in that way.
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