The Flesh House Fellowship [Bronwen]

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A lawless town of anarchists, built on the ruins of an ancient mining city. [Lore]

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The Flesh House Fellowship [Bronwen]

Postby Alric Lysane on March 9th, 2022, 7:39 pm

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There were thumping footsteps, a tutting and huffing sound he had grown familiar with working around the lasses, and then the door slammed shut firmly. That meant that Bron was angry, that much even he could discern through the throbbing. Yet he wasn’t sure why, he was the one who had been roped into a fight, injured and then found out his comrade had not only returned to her dust addiction, but had possibly been high during the fight he had been injured in. He knew she had denied it but there was no way to know for sure. He sighed, took her at her word and nodded into the silent isolation. He was starting to think he was cursed, everywhere he went there were complications and dramatics. If it wasn’t Arcadius it was an unbridgeable gap with Tazrae, or another pretty lass addicted and being destroyed by drugs – and all the rest.

“Look Bron…I’m sorry…it’s the pain talking. If you want help then I have a place, somewhere removed from these streets…and a good healer that might help you” he offered by way of apology, but simply getting a glass of drink shoved into his face in silence, her gaze stormy and her tone direct.

He had little option but to finish the drink, though it had smoky tones that he would have rather relished. Still he saw the sense, even f it was the guard basically forcing it down his throat. He wasn’t sure why she was rattling through the thing with such speed, he wasn’t about to die. Perhaps, he thought, she just wanted to get him sorted out, kicked out and then spend her time alone. As the alcohol burned his throat and he wiped his eyes of the small amount of water that sprang up I response, he saw that she had her own injuries, ones he had ignored in his focus upon his own. Perhaps, on balance, he wasn’t the one who should be feeling as if he were having a hard time of it. He kept his counsel for now, there could be time to talk it out after.

Instead he took the alcohol saturated cloth and wiped it over his forehead gash with a hiss of indrawn breath, then the wound in his side with a deeper sound that was more akin to a growl. Still he felt it burn and do it work, numbing the areas slightly even as he knew it was cleaning it, at least in a rudimentary sense. It was better than infection and he could pick up some medicine later, bring some for Bron if she needed it too. He froze as the door banged open, and given how Bron jumped up at the sound he was glad that she hadn’t started the stitching. Doubly better when this Alice too it instead, seeming to know what she was doing better than Bron did.

“Bronwen…Druva…asked for my help defending this place. You’re welcome for the blood shed, now can someone please stitch me up before I lose too much blood that alcohol alone won’t replace it” he said, laying down on his side so his left side, the side with the injuries, was showing and available for access.

Truthfully, he was starting to feel better already, his senses returning and sharpening more than they normally did after a fight. Perhaps his training had conditioned his body to be more resistant, he had no idea but he was grateful that he was able to think clearly and watch both women exchange glances, roll their eyes and then Alice got to work on his forehead. He felt like having another drink, but mostly he had started feeling rejuvenated. Small tingling at the edges of his senses, as if some mystery were at work for him to puzzle out, pulled at him. He blinked and looked at them both, noticing how they were possessed of their own beauty. He winced as the stitching began but as she moved to his side, his forehead now done, the overriding feeling was one of impatience, and an energy that he wanted to be rid of.

Was this how the post-fighting high felt? He had heard the mercenaries talk of it in the taverns but had never fought enough to feel it himself. He had fought today though, more than he had in a long time. The day he had rescued Bron didn’t count. He had killed them before they had even seen him. This day, though, had been a proper scrap and there was a soft smile that crept across his lips as he looked at Bron, watching her.

“How does the head feel?” Alice asked him, still tending to his side and so not looking up.

“Better…much better. Despite the pain I feel great. Think I could get a few free drinks for the fighting? It feels like such a long time since I just…forgot about the world and enjoyed an evening in Sunberth”

He lay as still as was possible but the longer time went on the more he felt as if he wanted to be up and dancing, drinking, smoking, gambling and exchanging stories with the patrons he could hear were already back at their enjoyments. His foot started to tap gently, involuntarily, as he waited for Alice to give him the signal she was finished and that he was going to be able to move.

“Fancy a few drinks Bron? My treat, I forgot about your injuries, they aren’t too bad, are they? I’d offer to wash the blood off of you but you stormed out so I’m guessing you’re angry. She’s angry” he directed the last to Alice, who tutted and hummed but said nothing.
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Alric Lysane
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The Flesh House Fellowship [Bronwen]

Postby Bronwen on March 11th, 2022, 10:09 pm

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Guilt, dense and heavy, wrapped around Bronwen like a wet blanket.

What had seemed like a good idea just chimes earlier now seemed like a betrayal. Bron hadn't slipped Alric the dust to be cruel or in some backhanded attempt at revenge for what Bron considered hurt feelings. It was because...well, Bron didn't know why she had drugged her friend but now wished she hadn't.

Even though Alric was feeling oddly energetic and happy, that buzz would wane soon enough, and in its wake, Alric would feel miserable, and the last place he would want to be when he came down from that feel good high was in a bar drinking.

Bronwen studiously ignored the whore's accusing glare that settled on her, focusing instead on Alric, her face a mask of regret and her own dust high suddenly crashing.

"No, Alric, I don't think so." she said, dropping down into an empty chair. "I know you feel pretty good right now, but those injuries are going to catch up to you soon enough." Bron risked a glance at Alice and grimaced at the look she was receiving. It promised -if you don't tell him, I will- and Bron drew in a long, deep breath, steeling herself for the possibility of losing a friendship before it ever had the chance to really form.

"I...Alric, there's something I need to tell you," catching her bottom lip between her teeth, Bron met Alric's gaze, fear joining the look of regret marring her features, "The reason you feel the way you do, no pain, and lots of energy, is because I put dust in your whiskey." Bron was surprised to feel tears stinging her eyes, and she suddenly realized that she really did care about what this man thought of her, despite the small amount of time she'd known him. " I can't even tell you why I did it." she hesitated, fighting the urge to run away from what she had done.

I'm so sorry." she said, looking away when her voice cracked and wobbled with the apology. "I don't-" Bron gasped, swallowing a sob attempting to claw its way up her throat. God's, but she'd gone and done it. "I'm just so sorry, Alric." Bron stood on wobbly legs and turned her back to Alric, "Please, Alric, find it within yourself to forgive me one day."

Then, finally giving in to the temptation to flee, Bron hurried from the room before the sobs could break free, a hand clamped across her mouth.



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The Flesh House Fellowship [Bronwen]

Postby Alric Lysane on March 12th, 2022, 1:00 pm

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It was strange, he thought, how Alice was deftly sticking a needle through his flesh and he didn’t seem to feel it at all, even going so far as to risk the contents of his stomach to watch her at her work, asking her in a manic way where she learned how to stitch people up, and why she were at Brega’s and not instead practising such crafts as healing, suggesting the Outpost and the Reddyn there as a potential place of employment. Alice, for her part, took his mania in her stride and her soothing tones batted away his question between shared looks with Bronwen that he didn’t catch. He was babbling, not something he usually did and he frowned briefly at himself, before the euphoria carried him away into not caring about such things.

“Sit still, Alric, or I’ll end up going wrong…or you’ll end up ripping this open. No, stop…sit still” she huffed at him, eventually using one hand to firmly press him down and he sighed, obeying as best he could given the fact he felt about to burst with energy.

It was almost like using Flux, but less that he felt immortal and more than he felt he could run forever and never tire. He could see how the Suvan soldiers would fall victim to the toxic mix of Flux lure and battle highs, he made a note to keep that in mind. Or at least he started to and then was distracted by a fly buzzing around and swatted at it before Alice threw her hands up and flicked his ear hard to get him to stay still again.

“Ow! Bron, your friends are as rough around the edges as you are” he told her, looking at her to see tears forming in her eyes and confusion rippling through him, he didn’t know what she had to be sad about, they had survived and were alive for another day. That was the best of victories in Sunberth.

He had missed her refusal of a night out but caught up with the conversation quick enough when she revealed what she had done. It didn’t immediately register, he hadn’t really thought she would do that to him after telling her own story of enforced addiction. There was a brief moment of horrific realisation that showed in his eyes before his anger flared and he started to rise, forced back down once more by Alice and then the drug surging at her touch, stroking and soothing as it was now, to swallow his anger and replace it with…an energetic numbness. He didn’t have time to respond before she was fleeing, begging for forgiveness and clearly breaking down into sobs that made it difficult to speak.

“Bron! Bronwen!” he tried to stop her, to try to find a way of navigating the situation, but it was in vain and she was gone, the door slamming behind her and her sobs fading away, silence in the room taking over and he slumped down, this time truly still for Alice’s working as his mind raced, trying to keep it on track but scattering all over and making rationality difficult.

The silence stretched on so long, his energy still filling him but somehow muted as his thoughts and mood became melancholy. Even with the drug it was difficult to not fall into that shadowy pit of sorrow. He had few friends in his life, he had hoped that Bron would be one, had offered to help her. Yet she had chosen instead to do to him what an enemy might. It wasn’t a betrayal, not really, they hadn’t had chance to get close enough for it to be that. It was just…Sunberth, the city of deceptive things. There was no yesterday, this drugging would be forgotten when the next terrible thing happened, the city just put you on a leash…and you had little choice but to try to break it if you could. Most couldn’t, though, even himself he mused…at least for now. Taz had told him Sunberth was a hive he could hide from Arcadius in, but she didn’t really understand that all that meant was locking himself in with another series of dangers. She had told him to trust no one...and that had been correct, he supposed, but he wondered if that also meant her too, if somehow Arcadius would grab her and turn her and that he was, truly, alone. Life was too complicated at times, he supposed it might be better to be alone.

“She’s not a bad person you know,” Alice said after a while, “do you know how she ended up like this?”

“Yes, she told me. She just did the same to me, she probably hates herself all the more for it”

“And do you hate her?”

“I don’t have the energy for hate anymore. I’m tired, tired of fighting everything. I just…I just want to find somewhere I can call home, safe and happy and filled with fun”

“You picked the wrong city then”

“No, the city picked me,” he sighed, “and I just survive here”

“You are a strange man”

“You have no idea”

Alice looked at him thoughtfully for a long time, before pushing herself up and letting him know she was done. She passed him his shirt and helped him back into it so as not to tear the stiches she had just put into him. She told him to stay as still as possible and to get some rest, despite the fact that he felt as if he wouldn’t rest for a score of days. With that she was gone, and he was left to lay there, eyes looking up at the ceiling for s long that he felt sure he had memorized every part of it. He thought about going to find Bron but he doubted it would do any good, and wasn’t sure anymore that he wanted to. The more he thought about things, the more he was wondering whether it would be better to strike out by himself, find a space in the wilderness that was defensible, learn to live off the land and master all of the arts he could…before setting out to confront Arcadius.

His melancholy was probably the drugs talking, he thought, knowing that he still had people like Taz who were willing to help him and spend time with him. He knew, though, that her heart truly lay in Syka and her paradise, which was a god thing for her. He was grateful she was helping him, loved her in his own way, and would have gladly settled there already were it not for who he was and what his life had become. No, the more he thought about it the more he thought he was alone. He didn’t see a good end for his story, not because he didn’t think he could survive, but because what was there to survive for? A life in a city of deceptive things?

“Damn the gods and their sense of humour” he muttered before he turned over and tried to sleep.

He was fated, instead, to stay awake as the sensation of cold sweat crept over his skin and shivers set in. The drug had finished doing its good work, now turning to its dark work and wracking his body with aches and pains alongside the cold sweat and shivers. He couldn’t get warm, no matter how much he tried. He tossed and turned, his body burning and hurting alternately, cursing the drug and the one who had given it to him for putting him through this. His groans were likely loud enough to be heard in the hall by passer-by’s but likely confused with those of the more aroused variety. He just wanted it to end, wondering off and on if death would not just be better but knowing that was the blackness of depressive thought from the drug talking.

A knock came at the door and he groaned, levering himself up when no one entered and walking to the door, opening it to reveal a wicker basket filled with a handful of items. There was a pipe, new and shiny, with a pouch of tobacco. A bowl of rich smelling soup and a generous hunk of crusty bread was there also, alongside a single arrow that told him who the gifts had come from. Looking both ways down the corridor he saw no one, she hadn’t wanted to face him but had at least tried for a peace offering in her absence. Despite it all he hoped she wouldn’t end up doing something stupid for her mistakes, making further mistakes and compounding her problems. He closed the door, thoroughly enjoyed the bread and soup, then passed out into slumber finally, his belly warm and his body still complaining at him but being ignored.
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Alric Lysane
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The Flesh House Fellowship [Bronwen]

Postby Alric Lysane on March 20th, 2022, 7:00 pm

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Your Grades


Alric Lysane

Skills

Acrobatics – 3
Brawling – 3
Endurance – 3
Interrogation – 3
Intimidation – 1
Medicine – 1
Observation – 3
Socialization – 2
Weapon: Broadsword – 4
Weapon: Unarmed – 2


Lores

Alice: Brega’s Medicine Woman
Brawling: Bench Clothesline
Brawling: Chair Throw
Broadsword: Hilt Guard Knockout
Broadsword: Wrist Grappling
Bronwen: Damsel In Distress
Bronwen: Doesn’t Fight On Dust
Bronwen: Dust Betrayal
Bronwen: Druva
Bronwen: Good Soul, Really
Dust: Sensation Of The Fall
Dust: Sensation Of The High
Sunberth: Brega’s Happy House


Items Gained

1 x Sentimental Arrow
1 x Smoking Pipe
1 x Pouch of Tobacco


Bronwen Druva

Skills

Acrobatics – 3
Brawling – 3
Endurance – 5
Intimidation – 1
Leadership – 3
Medicine – 1
Observation – 5
Running – 1
Socialization – 3
Subterfuge – 2
Stealth – 1
Weapon: Quarterstaff – 5



Lores

Acrobatics: Floor Dodge Roll
Acrobatics: Roll To Standing
Alice: Ally At Brega’s
Alric: ‘Repeatedly Appreciable’
Alric: The Dust Incident
Brega: Imperious Mistress
Burning Hatred: Daggerhand & Sun’s Birth
Dust: Addictively Treacherous
Jace: Sun’s Birth Drunk
Killing: A Chilling Thought
Luke: Strange Customer
Medicine: Alcoholic Painkilling & Cleaning
Quarterstaff: Disarming
Running: Dramatic Flight


Items Lost

Items purchased to be deducted from Ledger
~ Thanks to Gossamer/Shiress for post Boxcodes ~
User avatar
Alric Lysane
Carry On My Wayward Son
 
Posts: 763
Words: 1010203
Joined roleplay: October 29th, 2021, 5:41 pm
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