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Post by Louela Lucelle on Apr 19, 2013 12:44:19 GMT -5
It was dawn. The sun still hadn't climbed over the mountains, but the sky was already brightening, changing the clouds to pink cotton candy in the eastern horizon. It must have drizzled rain last night because Louela could smell an appealing fragrance in the air - the scent of wet grass and pine mingled together. Opening the window, she let her Kurobird Finne out for some fresh morning air.
"...and that's what I want you to do, Mister Rohan," she ended her briefing and turned around. As soon as she did, she was greeted by the sight of tea and buttery treats airborne, descending in a graceful parabola before messily encountering the face of Adam Rohan. She sighed. She had wanted someone meaner-looking for this particular job, but she guessed she shouldn't be picky for urgent matters.
After all, he was the quickest to respond to the request she had posted at a local tavern, and the fact that he didn't look the least bit as carefree and irresponsible as a certain Hector she knew helped with her first impression of Adam Rohan. It struck her as a surprise that the man now sitting on the guest sofa would take on such a job, but she figured it could have something to do with her wording on the printed request. All it said was some help on capturing needed, but she had left out the details for reasons she'd rather not disclose.
Or maybe he simply didn't know who exactly his current employer was.
The moment he arrived, though, the breakdown of the job was discussed over tea. A certain adult male in her group had escaped, bringing together with him a blonde little girl who was of high value to Louela. After all, one of her wealthy customers had expressed his interest in purchasing the girl for triple the suggested market price. Louela spent a few months grooming this girl into the best she could become, but the blue haired lady had overlooked the fact that a few months were also more than sufficient time for even an educationally challenged adult man to plan an escape. It seemed the two had become very well acquainted because the little girl had reminded him of his own daughter.
"Please, eat up, Mister Rohan. The day is early and I'm sure you haven't had quite a satisfying breakfast as of yet," Louela gestured to the three-tier curate tray placed on the table. Various kinds of scones, sandwiches, sweets, and cookies were respectively occupying each tier on the stand. "We've got a long day ahead of us, I can't guarantee you lunchtime."
The young lady walked over to fetch her sword displayed on a grand-looking sword stand, sheathed in a blue and golden scabbard. "Anytime you're ready, we'll be on our way. But first we'll extract more information on our targets." She waited for him to finish before leading him out of the room. "Please, follow me," she politely led him along a corridor. They eventually arrived at a dark place; reeked of living but dead organisms. She led Adam down another corridor, except this one served as a stark contrast to the fully-carpeted and bright corridor upstairs.
Paintings and expensive carvings were replaced by razor thin men, women, and children; each shone with their own light of despair of never being able to freely leave their cells. It was becoming conspicuous that she was part of the underground business. She commanded a guard to open a metal door at the end of the path, revealing a heavily wounded young man lying on the stone-tiled floor.
Louela then addressed the guard. "Has he talked yet?"
"No, ma'am. His lips are zipped real tight."
She walked over to the figure on the floor, readying herself to dirty her shoes. Hopefully he would talk afterwards.
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Post by Adam Rohan on Apr 19, 2013 22:56:01 GMT -5
Adam had walked this road countless times, exchanged these very pleasantries with no small number of Lords and Ladies. As his reputation grew, albeit under pseudonyms and across the Empire's shadowy underbelly, so, too, did the affluence of his employers. The woman of bright, aquamarine hair - a stark contrast to the noble's own sapphire locks - was no exception to this trend. If the expansive spread she had laid out before him was any indication at all, she lived in the uppermost seat of luxury at the highest station short of the ruling class themselves. Each of the tray's three tiers were prepared without sparing so much as a single expense, including attention to detail. It was quite impressive, though Adam proceeded with caution. He was, after all, not one to impose, and his hard taught etiquette was not so easily undone by six months of adventure. So, the young swordsman sat back, legs crossed and one arm elegantly supporting his chin, and watched as his employer threw open the window and filled the room with brisk morning air. He listened with all due attention to the briefing, but, of course, it was nothing he hadn't heard before.
The task was simple, almost deceptively so; Adam was to retrieve a pair of runaways, which, no matter their arms, would be no challenge for the cold steel of his blade. So he sat with no small amount of comfort, idly twirling a bit of hair in his right index finger. Surely, he thought, they carried with them sensitive information, stolen property, or innocent hostages, for such was the nature of these missions. When such an explanation never passed Louela's lips, however, the seeds of suspicion were sewn in Adam's mind. He cocked an eyebrow and met her gaze expectantly. Two pairs of deep blue eyes - one formal and dispassionate, the other brimming with vigor - locked for a moment as Adam awaited further details. All he was offered was a pleasant assurance that he could take what he pleased from the three tiered tray before him, and all he gave in response was a cool, gracious nod and a friendly grin. Doubtless, Louela did not expect one so approachable, but this never once occurred to the lost Heir to House Rohan.
Indeed, Adam was so dedicated to his optimism that he cast his paranoia to the dark recesses of his mind, choosing, for the time-being, to give the prestigious woman the benefit of the doubt. "I appreciate your generosity." He practically beamed as he reached for one of the sandwiches, though he minded his table manners nonetheless. "You're right, I haven't gotten a chance to eat today; I'm usually not even up at this hour, to be perfectly honest." Adam gave a very light chuckle and looked to the window, that he might admire the sun peeking timidly over the horizon. It cast the sky in a cascade of fiery pink and orange, signaling the dawn with appropriate bombast and circumstance. Of course, he doubted Louela had called him up so they could watch the sunrise, and so he wasted no time in standing to follow her lead. "But, you needn't worry about me. I've gone longer without food in my travels. I assure you, I'll give you nothing less than the full extent of my capabilities." Adam bowed gracefully before setting off after his employer.
Whatever trust the hardened veteran of battle might have felt for this young woman soon faded and, almost as fast as it had gone, was replaced with a feeling of dread. The suspicion that he had written off as senseless returned with a vengeance as the corridor grew darker and wrought with utter despair. The smell of impending death, to which Adam was no stranger, pervaded its every crevice - the unmistakable stench of those who clung to life by a thread yet were denied sweet release. Now, let it be known that the eldest son of House Rohan was not a judgmental man. No part of him wished to see Louela as a monster, but, when her emaciated captives came into sight, Adam could think of no other word to describe her.
Truly, Adam could not fathom how she expected him to react to this revolting sight. Was her sociopath's mind so thoroughly devoid of empathy that she viewed her twisted ways as perfectly acceptable? Even in the most uncaring echelons of Imperial society, Adam did not see such wretched creatures - innocent men and women whose only crimes were falling into the clutches of this demoness. A look of abject horror came across Adam's face and stayed there for some time as it dawned on him the sort of task he had been summoned to carry out.
With not a single thought given to subtlety or restraint, the ancestral blade, Durendal, was drawn forth and raised to Louela's neck. "You will not take another step, Miss." He spoke tranquilly and deliberately, though his tone betrayed the seething, righteous fury welling up in his heart. "I hope you realize, my dear employer, that I make a career out of hunting scum like you - not by doing your dirty work." Adam kept a watchful eye on the guard stationed beside the cell, ready and willing to strike him down if he so much as reached for his weapon.
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Post by Louela Lucelle on Apr 24, 2013 13:29:14 GMT -5
Having a sword raised to her neck was a first for Louela, so of course it took her by surprise. Her finite combat experience didn't allow her to foresee this event Adam initiated. Upon hearing him referring to her as 'scum,' she couldn't help but laugh. Real loudly. It took her a minute or so to breathe as per normal; after which she still giggled and chuckled. "I'm sorry, Mister Rohan," she unnecessarily apologized.
"You said I was, what, scum? Hahahah! Surely you jest; I thought you had much more common sense," she glanced at the cell guard who looked more than ready to pounce on Adam and signaled him to stop whatever the burly man was planning to do with a simple wave of her hand. Her tone was kept calm (and maybe slightly condescending) despite the momentary rise in her heart rate. It was funny that he dared call her scum. "No one has ever referred to Yours Truly by the title 'scum', " she spoke, "And I must regretfully inform you that perhaps you've jumped to a conclusion much too early."
She relaxed her tense muscles with a sigh, still standing upright with Adam's sword near her neck, trying to learn something about her 'hired help.' "It's true that some people have issues with my profession, but all I'm doing is my job. And like all jobs, this one in particular is created because there is a demand for it," Louela then glanced at the man who had pointed his sword at her. "Demand creates supply, remember? And it doesn't matter what the goods are. As long as the business is making profits, it works."
Years of diligently participating as an authority figure in the slave trading circles had given Louela a pair of keen eyes in terms of goods' observations. The sword Adam was pointing at her, especially, had long sparked her interest. The more her sight slid through the steel blade to the hilt, the more she realized that it was not an ordinary sword. Its quality and the precious gem attached to it should raise the rank of the sword, and it would be hard for stray mercenaries to even lay a finger on such a well tempered sword.
Seeing the tense atmosphere in the dark and damp special cell, the wounded man perhaps saw a chance to free himself or take revenge on the woman who had caused him misery. He launched himself at Louela, attempting to grab her to do who knows what so he could at least hurt her enough. There was murder in his eyes. However, his strong desire to harm her could very well be his downfall. Louela felt his murderous instinct and quickly took her sword out of the scabbard hung around her waist and pointed it to the man. It was too late for him to stop himself; he was already in motion and had no more energy to control his movements.
The next thing Louela could feel was her sword stabbing through the wounded young man. A stain of red bloomed between his shoulder blades. His eyes reflected horror as Louela pulled her blade out of his flesh and spun around in a reverse direction from where Adam's sword was positioned at in order to avoid having her flesh or even skin cut by it, then deflected its steel away from her before quick-stepping backward. A few strands of her long hair didn't make it, though. If it wasn't for her speed, the unexpected circumstance, and the morally righteous mercenary-in-disguise, she knew Adam would have easily taken her down with his noble sword.
Louela didn't waste any time. The man then fell to the ground with a thump, his back facing the sky beyond the ceiling.
She then thrust her proud sword forward into the air, pointing it at Adam's direction, then violently stepped on the wounded man's back. He grunted and vomited out some blood. "Where are number 19 and 43 escaping to?" Hearing no response from the man, Louela was angered. He never planned on spilling the beans in the first place even if it would cost him his life; she shouldn't have had wasted her time on him. Look at what he brought to her, a threat from Adam Rohan and another wounded she had to care for. Except this time she wasn't going to treat his wounds no more.
"How gallant, don't you think, Mister Rohan?" she smiled. "Whatever you might call this job is, it doesn't change the fact that you have taken it - and it is an official job. It has become your responsibility. You do have your reputation to maintain, don't you?" Louela openly threatened him. "And if you wish to drop out, I'd rather Mister Righteous here do it quickly than waste any more of my time." She did need help on capturing the two escapees, but she had never thought the help would turn out to be a thorn on her side. And such a troublesome, combat-efficient thorn, too.
She then turned to the guard and told him to dispose of the wounded man's body. He certainly was not dead yet. However, it would take too many of Louela's resources to nurse him back to health, and he wasn't even that valuable a good for her. That was when she thought of a method to avoid a duel she had no time to entertain then.
"Mister Rohan," she addressed Adam. "Do you wish to help this man?" Louela smirked. "If so, I propose a negotiation."
If not, then she probably would have to fight him, although she would rather come up with more ways to avoid having to battle Adam one-on-one.
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Post by Adam Rohan on Apr 25, 2013 23:06:02 GMT -5
Adam's turbulent blue eyes shined and roared at this grave injustice, glowering in silent fury with the strength of the most devastating waves. That same deathly glare was, by what scarce light reached this horrid chamber of bloodied stone, reflected in the cold steel of Durendal as it so nearly bit into Louela's vile flesh. To Adam, however, the blade held steadily in his vice like grip served as a mirror with which he tracked the hasty response of her sole protector. Behind the young master's fierce grimace lay a mind as lucid as ever in this tense calm before the inevitable storm. Even still, it was a mind split between two dilemmas, each one armed and poised to strike back should the other fall. Adam drew in deep, sharp breathes, taking care not to lower his guard when first he began to exhale. His chest rose and fell not out of fatigue, but, rather, from sheer moral outrage. He'd long since made up his mind that neither Louella nor her initiated soldiers would see the sun set on this, their day of reckoning - not if it were within his power to see them judged.
"Miss Lucelle, if anything, I would say 'scum' is too flattering a term for what you are. Your kind isn't fit to lick the dirt from my boots," he spat with the all the bitter hatred that those poor, tortured souls were too weak to express. "and certainly not to lecture me on economics. No matter the demand, what you've done to these people is -- it's disgusting." The tip of his blade, sharpened to a razor's edge and beyond by diligent maintenance, slid closer to her neck without so much as wavering. Adam, despite his anger, moved with the precision of a learned surgeon armed with his most trusted scalpel. The stationed guard, numbed to these atrocities and loyal to his despicable mistress, wrapped both hands around his sword but was in no hurry to strike. This was wise, for so much as an errant twitch on his part would have seen the end of his life. "I will not dignify you with any more debate; your arguments do not satisfy ethics, logic, or least of all me."
For all his intense focus, however, Adam was not expecting the slave to rise to his feet at the sight of his torturer's momentary distraction. Though he had been all but stripped to the bone, left with scarcely enough muscle to heave himself about, the poor man held yet a spark of defiance. Out of sheer, crazed desperation, the withered husk threw his weight at Louela, fingers bared and eyes full of smoldering rage. He hoped to throttle his captor, for he had been afforded a sliver of hope. Alas, it was but a fool's hope. Adam pulled back Durendal and brought it to attention, holding it now between himself and the unnerved guard; he wished not for this man to be cut in the midst of a chaotic melee. This, though, made it all too easy for Louela to interrupt his bid for freedom with a swift, decisive stab of her own fell blade.
And so, the slave crumbled in a bloody heap, guts all but spilling from his grievous wound. He lie motionless in a pool of crimson death, the stench of his own festering injuries mixing with the pungent odors already pervading the dungeon. Thus, in the span of a scant few seconds, Adam's interests were split yet again down the middle. He wanted nothing more than to see Louela silenced and her crooked enterprise drowned in her toxic blood, yet he could not very well leave this man to suffer a cruel, lonely death in this desolate cavern. Adam spread his legs and lowered himself into a defensive stance, mulling over his options while never once taking his eyes from the blue haired demoness. Silently, he begged the man to speak, that he might receive medical attention; knowing where the escaped slaves were would mean little once Louela had been thoroughly skewered, after all. However, the resilience and loyalty both men shared kept the slave from betraying his comrades.
"My reputation," Adam spoke at last, "is of no concern. If you offered the last contract in all of Yumiris, I still would not stoop so low." He said decisively.
Louela motioned for her guard to dispose of the dying man, but Adam would have none of that. He gave his foe no quarter, for his mind was made up when first the crooked sentinel received the order. The lost Heir of Rohan, renowned throughout the military for his extraordinary speed, more than lived up to his reputation. He lunged with such ferocity that, to the unpracticed eye, his body appeared as nothing more than a faint blur. And, however fast he may have lashed out, Durendal was swifter still. The guard's blade was knocked from his very hand and flung across the chamber by a two-handed, horizontal swing, met with little more than a startled twitch in reply. Adam, though, had strength to spare, and, in the blink of an eye, the guard had been cut open by a diagonal slash. A fell swoop saw to the end of his life; his blood joined that of the slave, mixing in a thick puddle of vital fluids.
"Listen well, Miss Lucelle." Adam turned to face his would-be employer, defiant as ever in the face of his powerful nemesis. Of course, he knew well that the slave needed a Healer, but he saw no reason to believe that Louela could be trusted to honor such a request. "There will be no negotiations." He looked her squarely in the eyes. "I will make no concessions, compromises, or deals. The only terms you'll get from me are these: You will free these poor people or face death at my hands. Are we clear?"
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Post by Louela Lucelle on Apr 27, 2013 19:48:13 GMT -5
"No deal," Louela replied to Adam's conditions almost immediately. He wouldn't understand just how much shit she would be in if she was to free her captives, and at the same time she didn't want to give Adam the chance to end her life. She would retaliate; she wasn't a complete weakling, after all. She at least was still more trained than the careless guard who had just gotten himself killed. Did she care about him? Not in the slightest. She had always have more than enough replacements, mostly consisting of desperate civilians seeking jobs to earn a loaf of bread. Witnessing deaths were also part of her past times, which she had accepted as daily occurrence.
All the thinking aside, listening to Adam speak had been annoying her. That, and she didn't quite fancy his rude mouth which had been throwing what she took as direct insults to her. The young man - no matter how well-trained in combat he might be - obviously wasn't very well-versed in the ways the lower world works. He must have been living a sheltered life for most of his years on the planet. To Louela, his overly righteous attitude seemed to have grown from his short experience of witnessing the dirty part of living, and had now believed that he could somehow help every single person who suffered so they could have better lives. She stared at him with an antagonistic shine in her eyes, indicating that she was in a complete disagreement with his views.
"I don't need my arguments to convince you. As long as they make sense to me, they have to make sense to you - if they don't then it's you who needs to go back to school. You've wasted enough time. If you don't wish to help me finish the job, then leave. I can't keep my nobles waiting," she said as she stomped on the wounded man beneath her sole once again. She had been holding herself back from swearing. She was angry because everything about the young mercenary irritated her. If any, he was the one who had refused to understand the ways the world would work under realistic circumstances; her being a slave trader was just a small piece of a big jigsaw puzzle he was trying to solve.
"And if it's your safety that I need to threaten so that you'd get outta my way, then so be it." With that, she entered her stance and positioned her blade in such a way that would alert her should her opponent took the first strike.
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Post by Adam Rohan on Apr 27, 2013 21:43:50 GMT -5
"Arguments? No, what you've got are the ravings of a depraved sociopath. If I am the first to bring this to light, then you must not have been keeping very intelligent company." Said the noble heir of House Rohan, fingers clutching the grip of his ancestral blade as though it were the grandest of jewels. The learned warrior, possessed of a certain wisdom beneath untold layers of naivety, saw that his sharp words had touched on a nerve or two. No, his host was not one bit amused by the righteous vigor coursing through Adam's every vein, nor did it frighten her in the least. The face of the trader, the stiff arrogance of her tone - it betrayed a terrible agitation. She was offended, but Adam cared not, for she was every bit as ravenous as the Monsters of the open road. However, worse yet was this cruel girl; she was lucid and sensible, and so she might have known better.
"As for the Noble houses, they'll just have to wait. I'm afraid we still have business to attend to." Adam laid bare his intent. He would not dignify this cruel lady with subtlety or debate; his rebuttal would be written in cold steel on her blackened heart. First, though, he wished to see her away from the poor man at her feet. He was not long for this world if he were not taken to a well versed healer, and each second of delay saw to the loss of what precious little vitality he had left. Adam would need to end this swiftly and decisively, yet at the same time, he was not comfortable dueling so close to a man who lie at the very brink of death. He did not doubt for one instant that Louela would hesitate to take him for her shield. "So be it, then. If you will not give them their lives back, then I shall take yours away from you."
Unfortunately, any patience or rationality that yet remained in the mind of Adam Rohan was clouded when the foot of Louela came crashing down on the slave's brittle bones. The tortured groan which escaped his dry, receded lips was a chilling, ghastly sort, and it sent Adam into a frenzy. He moved toward Louela with that same blinding speed with which he killed the guard, approaching low with Durendal held in both hands. However, though he moved to run her through, he purposefully fell short of her blade. His own sword moved harmlessly past, and Adam used the momentum to fling his leg out in a devastating kick. He struck at her side, meaning to knock her away from the man by force. The very instant his foot touched down on the concrete, the noble brought Durendal around for a second pass in a diagonal arc. In the fashion of a Western Cross master, his movements were as those of a great typhoon - at once crushingly powerful and peerless in their fluidity.
"By all means, threaten away." He brandished his sword and moved to lash out yet again. "For their sake," he indicated the men and women who wept silently in their cages, "I will stand against this enterprise of yours - alone, if I must."
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Post by Louela Lucelle on May 25, 2013 21:12:58 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][bg=eeeeee][atrb=width,500,true]— I CAN ENDURE THIS FOR AS LONG AS I WANT. I AM QUEEN OF THE WORLD. The more Adam spoke, the more furious she had gotten. But no matter how much she was angered by every single syllable escaping from Adam's throat, Louela could spare almost no time for rational thinking the moment he launched his chain attacks. She had to focus her attention on avoiding, parrying, and defending herself from his kicks and sword slashes, and his skills proved to be superior to hers when she realized she was being pushed away from the injured slave she had intended to use as a shield. But it seemed the situation had turned dire, and it was no doubt haunting her; especially when she felt the ache accumulating in her body. Now she worried for the gruesome bruises that would possibly develop from his heavy kicks that managed to hit her.
Louela groaned while still maintaining her stance, panting and drawing heavy breaths. Fresh red fluid dripping from small scars she had received from Adam's worthy steel blade. The very fact that all she could do was take on the defensive role in the battle was more than enough warning for her who was used to being the coward in fights. And all these relatively small wounds just screamed he was being merciful, still. The conspicuous difference in power was immediately dawned upon her. Thank goodness she didn't need much time (or more wounds to suffer) to judge his strength, because then she would be able to save her own ass like she had always been doing.
Gathering her thoughts, she exhaled and stood with her chin up, eyeing Adam's movements. She side stepped and walked in a circular path around the room's walls, her blade still pointed toward the man who now had her hostage on the edge to freedom, in the hope of luring Adam to follow her movements and attack her. Her weakened body seemed to need support to stand, which was why she had her left hand sliding on the walls. But the seemingly natural gesture was merely an act, for she had pressed on a hidden button for some help. Louela had called for reinforcement. TEMPLATE BY SAMARECARM OF OTE + BTN
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