Drawing the Line (Private)

This is where all of the medieval Domus role-plays are archived.
Madame
Duke
Duke
Posts: 1271
Joined: Fri Nov 24, 2006 1:01 pm
Gender: Female
Species: Pine Marten
Location: Out of my mind, please leave a message.
Contact:

Drawing the Line (Private)

Post by Madame »

"Art, like morality, consists in drawing the line somewhere." ~ Gilbert K. Chesterson
--- --- ---

"The way I see it, he is better off dead," the sheltie said to the greyhound helping her raise a white banner with the words 'Festival d'Aquilon' painted across it in the city's customary blue and gold.

"How do you reckon that, Ellie?" the greyhound asked, brow furrowing as he maneuvered his pole into the stand nearby.

"Well." She paused, biting her lip as she lined up her half of the banner in the stand. "Well, what sort of creature would want to live after having his face chewed off like that? Just the town crier’s description was making my stomach turn. And he said that they have not caught the murderer yet. It could be anyone, even you, Nicholas!”

Nicholas snorted and straightened out his tunic while the sheltie giggled and sauntered over. “If I wanted to kill anyone, I would start with you, Ellie.” He winked at her as they began walking, passing under similar banners that lined the main streets leading toward the town center. “You say such mean things about your friends.”

Ellie retorted with a foot placed firmly in his path. The greyhound tripped and only just managed to catch himself as the sheltie smirked at him.

“You’re also a complete brat,” he added, rolling his eyes as they entered the main square.

Nicholas glanced over the proceedings, noting that the workers had yet to erect the platform in the west corner that would display some of the smaller statues. At the center of the square stood the main piece of the art festival: An enormous magical fountain carved out of white marble depicted His Royal Majesty King Andre III in all his fineries.

“Nicholas!” The harsh Edwinish pronunciation grated on the dog’s ears as a rotund snow leopard stalked toward him, waving a scroll and flicking his tail back and forth. “Where have you been? Do you see this?” The leopard stabbed a pudgy claw at the empty west corner. “This is unacceptable.”

“Please, Garvin, calm down. I was just helping Ellie–”

“I don’t care about your wench,” Garvin hissed. “The artists and their work are arriving today. How do you expect them to set up their displays when they don’t have a stage?”

“It will be done in time, sir.” Nicholas held up his paws to placate the angry feline, willing Ellie to remain silent. He could feel her hackles rising at three paces as the cat continued to huff and puff. “I assure you, Garvin. My workers are making every effort to prepare for this event. I have been assisting in the labor myself.” The leopard opened his mouth, but the greyhound continued. “Why do you not take a stroll over to Victoire’s Veranda? It is close to your tea, no? Tell the staff that I sent you, and that you would like their very finest tea and cake on my tab. By the time you are finished, voila!” He snapped his claws. “The stage will be ready, and all will be well in the heart Céleste. Go, Garvin. Enjoy yourself.”

The snow leopard eyed Nicholas with no little suspicion as the dog clenched his teeth in a smile. “Well, so long as it’s finished before I’m done.” The feline drew himself up to his full height. “But mark me, boy, if it’s not, you and the lot of your lazy hounds will get a taste of my fire magic. We’ll see if that doesn’t set you to working at a proper pace.”

“Yes, sir. Setting creatures on fire is certainly the best way about this.”

Garvin nodded. “Yes. Certainly.” With that, he turned on his well-polished heel and lumbered away to tea.

“You should not let that slug talk to you like that,” Ellie growled. “He is just some fat cat hired because of his family’s donations to Lord Machete.”

“Yes, and that ‘fat cat’ is the reason why you can eat tonight,” Nicholas returned, driving his frustration at her. “He might be an Edwinish idiot, but he pays by the hour to yell at me. I–”

“Are you in charge of this?” a new voice demanded. The bristling dogs broke off their glaring to find a fennec standing nearby. He was wrapped from snout to tail in thick coats and leggings and even had mittens on his paws. Said paws happened to be on his hips at the moment as he threw his own scowl into the mix.

“Eh, no, sir,” Nicholas replied. “Monsieur Garvin Platt is just–”

“Because either that abomination goes, or I do!”

The greyhound blinked at the fennec, then glanced at Ellie. She looked just as perplexed as Nicholas felt. The fennec was gesturing at the fountain of the king. “I do not understand, sir. Is there something wrong with the fountain?”

“Well, it’s magicked,” the little fox said.

“Yes?”

The fennec sighed as if the greyhound had just asked him what color the sky was for the umpteenth time. “I did not come to this festival just to have my art outshone by a fancy waterspout. Real artists don’t use magic in their craft; all the soul’s strength goes into the creation of the piece. There’s nothing left for cheap parlor tricks like that thing.”

“Sir-”

“It’s Pris, Corin Pris of Chant du Cygne.” A beat. “Surely you’ve heard of my work.”

Nicholas exchanged another look with Ellie. Before the fennec could snarl, though, the greyhound soldiered on. “I apologize, Monsieur Pris, but that fountain was made specially for this event by a well known local sculptor. You will have to talk to Monsieur Platt if you wish it to be removed. He is at Victoire's Veranda. Ellie, will you show him?”

“Yes! Yes, of course,” she agreed. “Follow me, sir. Monsieur Platt loves listening to creatures yelling at him about stu- about many things.”

As Ellie led the pain in his backside away, Nicholas massaged his temples.

“Bit of trouble, these artistic sorts, hmm, Nicholas?” a Gawanian-accented voice asked.

“You have no idea. It is...” He trailed of and brought his muzzle around sharply. Standing beside him was a pine marten. Her eats were tattered, and she wielded a cane. One long fang poked out below her lip on the left side so that he could not tell if she was smirking at him or just looking. “Who are you?”

“I don’t think that’s the only problem you’ll be dealing with soon,” she continued. “Dangerous business in these parts what with that murder the other day. I’m sure you must be worried about Ellie.”

“Who are you?” Nicholas demanded again. “And how do you know my name and Ellie's?”

“Madame Eyes.” She inclined her head and gestured theatrically. “Traveling seer and a caring creature concerned about the health and well-being of others, especially when they’re in love.”

The greyhound cocked a brow at her. “You’ve seen something about me and Ellie?”

“Oh, yes.”

“What?”

“I’m afraid it’s a bit unclear at the moment. A few coins might charm the spirits with their music, though.”

Nicholas frowned at her again, but she smiled back benignly.

“Very well.” He dug in his pocket and produced three sol. She snatched them away before he could even begin to protest.

“Yes.” She hooked her cane around her elbow and cupped her paws. As he watched, a perfect sphere of ice appeared in the marten’s paws. She opened her eyes again and gazed down into it. “Peril. Ellie is in grave danger.”

The greyhound stiffened, the hairs on the nape of his neck rising for an altogether different reason than frustration. “What danger? When?”

“It’s very difficult to make out. Something to do with a snow leopard?”

“Garvin!” Nicholas supplied quickly. “She didn’t... did she yell at him?” A sudden image of the tri-color sheltie, her fine pelt set ablaze, flitted across his vision. “Is she hurt?”

“The danger is not now, but in the future.”

He breathed a sigh of relief.

“When, then?”

Madame Eyes gazed into her icy ball, and then glanced up at him and pursed her lips.

“What? What is it?”

“Perhaps a few more coins will clear my vision, dear.”

He reached for two more sols and handed them away. “What’s going to happen to Ellie?” he demanded.

“Ah... no.” She shook her head sadly. “It’s gone. I’m sorry, Nicholas. Ellie is in danger. Garvin plays into this. Something that looked like smoke. I’ve lost it now, though.”

“Well, get it back,” he ordered.

“Nicholas, we need some help with the stage!” another voice called.

The greyhound looked to see a coyote waving at him from the west corner where he and a work crew had begun construction. “Just a minute, I-” He turned back to Madame Eyes, but she was gone, the only reminder of her presence was a distinct lightness in his coin purse.

--- --- ---

((This is the set up for the RP. There will be beasts coming from all over Domus and from other countries, as well, to visit Aquilon for this art festival. It features sculptures prominently, but feel free to throw in whatever other crafts you see fit. Also, feel free to make use of any of the NPCs seen here. Lord Machete is the Duke of Aquilon and is paying for the event. He has hired Garvin Platt to coordinate, and Garvin in turn has hired Nicholas and his crews to do the grunt work setting up the displays and decorations, and such.))
Last edited by Madame on Tue Jun 12, 2012 4:04 pm, edited 6 times in total.
"It's hard to argue against cynics - they always sound smarter than optimists because they have so much evidence on their side."
~Molly Ivins (R.I.P.)

Extended Signature
My Art on FurAffinity
Sponsor
 

Kitsunegami
Marquis
Marquis
Posts: 999
Joined: Mon Aug 03, 2009 4:06 pm
Gender: Female
Species: Kitsune

Re: Drawing the Line (Private)

Post by Kitsunegami »

(Hope you don't mind me borrowing an npc for a little backstory Madame. =P)

Rook hadn't been in Aquilon in years, kept busy traveling the world doing mercenary work. Whatever payed well enough to keep him funded, so long as he is willing to take on the job in the first place. There was an art festival in preparation and Rook had received word that his cousin, Nicholas, was doing all the work while a lazy cat from Edwin was barking orders. Rook had served as bodyguard for more than his share of nobles, most of whom hailed from Edwin. Suffice to say most weren't worth the trouble required to keep them alive...

Rook was staying at the Inn, changing out of his armored clothes, shield, and weapons, taking only his money and a dagger after changing into a brown tunic, leather trousers, and his boots. He traveled to the square where he saw his 5th cousin, Nicholas. (Domish) "Cousin Nicholas! It has been years since I last saw you. Heh, heh. How are you, you old hound?" he called out to Nicholas.

Surprisingly, Rook was accompanied by a pair of youths from across Feila. A young dragon that was a falcon/tuatara hybrid of Kahunian descent, and a young yellow jacket, both dressed in dull, common colored clothes, much like Rook wore. (Domish) "I'd like to introduce you to my students. Nasim, an orphan from Kahun who shows great aptitude for my profession, though he is a bit headstrong. Then there is Ahri, a young wasp who is already something of a proven survivalist and archer. She's got quite a bit of skill with her bow."

He took the two to the side and spoke with them privately for a few minutes. (Trade language) "This is the most simple lesson, but at the same time, likely to be more difficult than your previous lessons. Today's lesson is that of a hard and honest days work. I want you to volunteer your time to help get the festival preparations completed. You can never know what your employer will ask of you, and you have to be ready to do what is asked, or terminate your contract with them. Terminating a contract can gain you some powerful enemies."

After he finished speaking to the pair, they walked over to Nicholas and spoke in rough Domish, "We would like to help with the work."
Last edited by Kitsunegami on Sat Jan 08, 2011 6:17 am, edited 1 time in total.
User avatar
Rainwhisker
King
King
Posts: 1938
Joined: Mon Oct 19, 2009 5:26 am
Gender: Male
Species: Lynx canadensis
Location: Travancore/Melbourne, Victoria, Australia

Re: Drawing the Line (Private)

Post by Rainwhisker »

"Ah, Aquilon!" came a very excited sharp voice of a tabby cat, dressed in fine velveteen garments of red and maize-yellow. He was certainly eye-catching with how he was waving his arms and pointing at every single artist that he has ever read about, or seen in a painting, or owned a piece from. And this frustrated his young pupil.

"Master, please." the white, black and oddly red calico said sharply to the over-excited feline. "Compose yourself this instant!"

"Mais non," he lightly waved a paw at his pupil, his voice drifting into Domish. "I am too far caught in the moment! I have *dreamed* of attending this festival. And haven't you?" he poked at the calico's belly, slightly exposed by the half unbuttoned coat.

"No." Luke added, firmly and unamused. "Master Yvonne. I appreciate art, sure, but can you resist from drawing attention?" he growled, his hackles beginning to rise.

"Ah." Yvonne stopped, his jovial ears and tail drooping flat. "Oui." he silently added, his voice reaching to a deathly silence. "We are here to chase spirits and to find artists who 'may' have the same gift as you." he suddenly faked into an exaggeratedly serious tone. "Such is our quest to further our learning of the darkest of magics."

"Now you are mocking me..." the calico rolled his green eyes, turning to look at the townsfolk. As lesser-classed as they were, Luke had to admit that artists did have an air that struck them out from the common fur. Always so colourful, so elegant, proud of their work. Similar to nobles and their politics, but he had no interest in that. He did like one piece at the manse that depicted the spirits of the dead, dancing soulfully as they marched to the Iron Gates where they would be judged. Perhaps the artist of that painting was here. Or another of similar vision or talent. Maybe he could explain his gift to him - far better than Master Yvonne had ever done.

To give his jolly tabby master credit, though, Luke also had to swallow a bit of pride and agree that he had been helpful in keeping his studies of the dark arts a secret from his mother - let alone this trip. The Fangloup family knew not where the whereabouts of his brother nor had any news of the Lightfang family yet, so 'searching for information' became the perfect excuse to travel with his old tutor. He found it funny that he of all people were also into the mysterious powers of darkness - but he did not agree with his persistence on showing his extraordinary personality to the entire country of Domus as they traveled from the minute they made landfall in the island.
Image Image- I pranked/shot Felia. Mwahahaaha!

My Character Compilation
Avatar - Merci @ Duchess!!!! :D

Chat on the IRC!
User avatar
RabidFox
The Great Fox
The Great Fox
Posts: 6096
Joined: Wed Mar 15, 2006 1:06 am
Gender: Male
Contact:

Re: Drawing the Line (Private)

Post by RabidFox »

Jerome had been wandering the countryside for weeks, hunting rabbits, squirrels, and one bowl of turtle soup. Sometimes it was difficult to keep his health bar up, but he always managed something in the end. There were long days where he would go many hours without food, sniffing around like a beast at the bushes and the trees, looking for any sign of a meal in the trackings left in the woods. He had learned how to hunt when he was young, being taught the differences in the shape and placement of paw prints and how to kill an animal with little in the way of gear. It was an old, self-disciplined habit by now.

The fox wasn't quite thirty, still a bit of a ways from a mid-life crisis and a set of shackles called a wedding ring. He was often on his own, though, he took up work in the towns and cities when he could. Villages offered him farm work in exchange for a place to sleep and something to eat. When he wasn't near a settlement that he could bribe into tolerating him, the wayward noble had to figure survival out for himself. It wasn't always hard work, but then again it could be pretty brutal.

This time around, he had been paid to serve as an escort for a scholar that he'd met at a port sometime back. The man had come in to see the big festival in Domus, and had needed someone to protect him on his travels. A wealthy sort of fellow with more than a few coins to spare, Jerome Bouchard had, had it especially easy for the time he had spent with him. He was not an unlikable bookworm either, and the fox could have certainly joined a less merry band of men.

Jerome was walking at the side of said employer, a tall, colorful looking Akita with white and sherbet colored fur. The academic had deep, green eyes that seemed to say a lot even when the man said nothing, and despite that he was larger than the fox, he was not good with a sword or any kind of weapon. That was not to say that he was scrawny, however.

Bouchard was himself very uninteresting looking as far as physical appearance and dress went. All of his charm came from a curious set of expressions, a mischievous glint in his eye, and the biggest mouth that had ever uttered a word on Feila. Yes, Jerome was all personality, and he had a tendency to think that he was far greater than he really was. Strangely enough, he could also be so delightfully humble and without any offsetting arrogance what-so-ever. Céleste had broken a few rules when creating him.

The red fox looked around him, soft, blue irises sharpened by the big, manic smile on his face and the energy that burned in his limbs. If elements could have taken the form of a person, Jerome would have been the incarnation of fire. He was overly interested in every little thing around him, almost like a child, except that he possessed a certain maturity about him that kept him from being too much of an overgrown kit. While he had traveled with the Akita, the dog had given him a sword to wear at his waist, on the opposite side of his hips from his usual dagger. To his luck, Jerome had been able to wield it efficiently enough to please the man.

"What a long way to journey just to see some big rocks." The fox joked, in a light-hearted manner. "Is this stuff really that interesting? By Loup, there must be an entire army worth of gullible spectators."

Another man, an Alaskan Malamute, who had been paid to guard the Akita responded. "Some of these people would fly to the moon to see a portrait of Andre the Third." His voice was calm and easy-going, albeit tired. "I never have understood it."

"I'd say they'd all flap their arms to Scharnhorst to see the delicate carvings on a spoon!" Jerome exclaimed, with a mocking grin.

The two chuckled together at the starving artists.


((OOC: Any of my NPC's are open to be murdered. Just don't off Jerome as he's my main character. Also, Scharnhorst is a planet in the solar system that Feila belongs to.))
JamesG
Inquisitor
Inquisitor
Posts: 3614
Joined: Sat Feb 24, 2007 1:43 am
Gender: Male

Re: Drawing the Line (Private)

Post by JamesG »

My dear Father,

Please thank Mother for the scarf she sent. I thought the repeated multi-coloured chequered pattern of red, blue, red, white and blue was visually inspiring. At first I thought it was asymmetrical, then I realised I had made an error in counting the squares. There were exactly two hundred and forty squares, a very pleasing number.

The buildings in this place are made of a tree species I cannot identify. I asked the landlady about it, but poor Madame Sylvia was unable to illuminate my interest. Fascinating workmanship, though I have noticed it is a little crooked in places.

My religious pursuits have not gone unrewarded. I have had many charming conversations with the local ministers of our perfect faith. They seemed a little fazed by my theories on the duality patterns throughout our teachings, but the kind Abbot Remy seemed genuinely interested. I know we can do so much good if we just take the time to care.

I know mother is worried for my diet, but I assure you I am eating quite normally. This very morning I had one of the local pastries and a mug of strong, hot apple cider. My word, it was a fine meal. Very fine cider!

It seems that dust is quite a problem in large cities. Most folk do not seem to care, but good Madame Sylvia twice daily prepares a bath for ‘Your Lordship’ as she calls me, much to my amusement. I am certain that you are pleased to read that your noble name and reputation precede even your son across the land.

Lastly, please send my love and affection on to my dear brother. I miss Henry perhaps most of all. Please check that my Summoned Ones continue to watch over his tomb. Make certain Bazin still feeds them twice a day.

Yours with love and kindest regards,

Your affectionate son



~~~

“Dance with me, Madame Sylvia.”

“Céleste! Your Lordship is in a fine mood to-day!”

“Shh, no words, Madame. Follow the wood!”

“The wood, Monseigneur?”

“Under your feet, Madame. And move your arms like so.” The chubby landlady giggled uncontrollably as she joined him in the twirling movements. The Border collie was becoming more and more familiar with His Lordship’s habits, yet it seemed just when she had him figured out, he had another surprise in store for her. This morning her favourite tenant had cleared the chairs and tables to one side of the bar and whisked her into the strangest dance she had ever witnessed. At first she had thought His Lordship was being lewd, but the innocent smile and his concentrated stare at the floorboards convinced her otherwise.

“Monseigneur! What if the Abbot comes calling?”

“Let him join us.”

“When does the dance end?”

“When we have run out of spirals in the grain, Madame. Then we scatter to do the same task.”

“What is that, Monseigneur?”

“We take but a pebble from the boulders that weigh down the world,” His Lordship replied enigmatically, his blue cloak swishing behind him as he spun. This caused his landlady to burst into another fit of giggles as she clumsily twirled across her inn’s floor, her arms twisting in the same pattern as her tenant. All at once, he stopped. The collie opened her muzzle to speak, but he raised a clawed finger to his lips. Silently, the figure began to walk along the gap between two floorboards on his toes, his arms spread for balance. He reached the door and flashed one last grin at Madame Sylvia, showing off his healthy fangs and teeth. Before she could raise a paw in farewell, he was gone.

~~~

“Monsieur Garvin Platt?”

“What do you want?”

“Ah, it is you! I have heard wonderful things about your commitment to this festival.” His Lordship casually sat down besides the snow leopard. The table was laid for tea and a cake. The figure’s eyes idly examined the foreign drink. It was a Kahunian import, for the wealthy and the exotic.

“Oh, you have? And who are you?”

“Monsieur Platt, is it true you are one of the most accomplished fire summoners in Aquilon?” A winning smile, deftly ignoring the cat’s question. Garvin sat up, trying not to look too flattered.

“Well, I’m not bad, not bad at all.”

“You have tea here every day?” Light brown eyes read the cat’s guilty glance at the half-eaten cake.

“I suppose so. I do not even know your name, monsieur…?”

“Monseigneur, I prefer. Céleste guide you, Garvin.”

“Ah, you’re one of those types, eh? I’m afraid you’ve come to the wrong fur. I’m born and bred in the Church of Midas.” His Lordship’s face hardened, his smile becoming cold. Garvin shifted uncomfortably under the stranger’s gaze. He noticed the glint of something steel in the fur’s paw. He stiffened.

“Goodbye, Monsieur Platt.” Garvin’s fire magic was at the tip of his pudgy fingers. Before he could do anything, the figure swept from the table as rapidly as he had come. Garvin blinked. The fur had disappeared. He breathed out in relief, before spotting Ellie approach with an irate looking artist. Garvin decided to keep his magic handy.

~~~

“We are here to chase spirits and to find artists who 'may' have the same gift as you. Such is our quest to further our learning of the darkest of magics.”

Red and yellow. Red, yellow, red. Or, if His Lordship looked at a different angle, red, red, yellow, red, red. A sign. A name. The couple of cats he had been following split up. One headed into the festival proper, the other hurried off with the sort of look one sees on the face of a fur in dire need of a visit to the privy. His Lordship stalked after the cat. It was when both of them had entered the same alley that the tabby realised he was lost.

“Excusez-moi. Master Yvonne?” The tabby cat turned.

“Can I help you…?”

“I must have a moment, Master. I understand you are a great authority on the subtle patterns celebrated at this festival.”

“Why, certainly! But I would prefer to discuss art at a less precipitous moment…”

“Please, monsieur. You are a follower of Céleste, are you not?”

“Of course, now I really must…”

“Examine this symbol, Master. It is an artwork of my own.” The tabby squinted at the inky parchment the figure held forward in his paw. It was a pattern of wood grain.

“Very nice, now do you know where I can find…”

His Lordship shoved Yvonne against the wall. From his sleeve he produced a steel spike. Yvonne’s eyes widened.

“Please! If you want money, monsieur…”

“Tell him I’ll be ready soon.”

“What?” His Lordship skewered the parchment with the spike and rammed it into Yvonne’s heart. He frowned as he watched the cat die.

“Hm. The pebble weighs you down, Yvonne,” he remarked. From under his cloak he produced a thin, sharp hook.

~~~

It was only when the smell began to grow unbearable that they noticed it. The coral sculptures smelt awful and horribly like blood. When the artist discovered the shredded pink and red strips of flesh were not part of the abstract sea anemone, she screamed. Several other furs screamed too, some in horror, others simply taking the opportunity to express themselves loudly in public with no repercussions. It would only be a matter of time before Yvonne’s body would be discovered impaled on a spike nailed to a wall, his nose bleeding.
"You can't just remain a root forever. Eventually you grow and change into other things, like stems and leaves and such. Are a tree's leaves an insult to its roots?" - Sade

"It is easy for a statesman, whether he be in the Cabinet or the Chamber, to blow a blast with the wind of popularity on the trumpet of war, warming himself the while at his own fireside; or to thunder orations from this tribune and then to leave it to the musketeer who is bleeding to death in the snow whether his system win fame and victory or no. There is nothing easier than that; but woe to the statesman who in these days does not look around him for a reason for war which will hold water when the war is over." - Otto von Bismarck

My Characters
User avatar
n00b678
Omnipresence
Omnipresence
Posts: 4939
Joined: Sun Dec 17, 2006 6:57 pm
Gender: Male
Species: Fox
Location: Out of this world :p
Contact:

Re: Drawing the Line (Private)

Post by n00b678 »

As if there weren't enough colorful visitors to this festival, another visitor entered the realm of our story in the festive town of Aquillion. This one did not come to perfect his art, simply to observe the artists and their work. Of course, tht was somewhat hard for this wandering loner, as one could tell from the fact that he wore a thick blindfold of a dark color over his eyes. The tapping of a thin, elongated piece of wood, curved in its shape, hitting the ground signified where he walked, dragging softly along the ground in front of the arctic fox as he navigated his way through the festival grounds, trying his best not to bump into anyone or trip them. While he had been doing this for many years, he had to admit it was something of a struggle today, on the day where many, many creatures came to see the eccentric artists put their heart and skill into masterpieces that would leave them gasping with amazement.

In all honesty, Jeric wasn't so sure why he was here, unable to see the works himself and being somewhat envious of the ones who could. It was at times like this he wish he could have his sight back, even though he knew it was practically impossible for him at this point. Still, Jeric felt drawn to this place, if only to hear the tales spun by poets, and perhaps weave some tales of his own. Jeric, however, felt that the reason he was here was to be surrounded by people who were happy, to smell the various aromas that festivals brought with them, the delicious food that would make one's mouth water, and to take in the laughter of children as he artists and performers entertained them. It was here that even a blind fox like himself could fiend some peace and happiness after being alone on the road for so long. In truth, the fox's only dilemma at this point was where to start first...

His ears perked to the voices around him, Jeric did manage to pick out some conversations of interest, particularly of an older woman telling the fortunes of a man's sister. The fox tried hard to hide his frown at that, not that he didn't believe it could be entertaining and even true sometimes, but that his particular one seemed to be swindling the poor man's hard-earned money. Having stopped by to listen to the fortune teller work her "magic", the fox gripped the handle to his walking stick slightly as he listened to her squeezing some more coin out of him for ultimately something that would ultimately be either useless or something that she did not find out through any true magic. After Nicholas had left, the arctic fox spoke in a voice that spoke of a foreigner of somewhere far away from Domus, "Quite the fortune, seer. I've never heard of a crystal ball fueled by the 'magical' properties of gold."
Madame
Duke
Duke
Posts: 1271
Joined: Fri Nov 24, 2006 1:01 pm
Gender: Female
Species: Pine Marten
Location: Out of my mind, please leave a message.
Contact:

Re: Drawing the Line (Private)

Post by Madame »

Madame started when the short fox she hadn't noticed before spoke, the icy ball in her claws taking a lurch before she caught hold of it. "Hmm?" She eyed him with some annoyance, and he didn't eye her back. She hadn't seen many blind creatures, at least not ones keen on trotting about where everybeast else could see and pity them. Still, to each his own.

“Wasn't gold, my dear,” she replied with a sickly tinge of sweetness to her voice. “It was copper.”

He didn’t look like he had much of value, and from That Tone in his voice, he didn’t place much stock in the accuracy of her art. Fair coin to him, she didn’t either, but that meant ‘fair coin’ wasn’t to be made here. “If you’ll excuse me, though, here you are.” The marten felt a smirk curl her lips as she tossed the ice ball to the fox, not bothering to watch him puzzle over the object as she shuffled off. Nicholas might come looking for her, after all, and one snowy disbeliever wasn’t worth the effort when there were more gullible mutts strolling about in less-dangerous areas.

Madame spent another hour reading the fortunes of the beasts setting up their wares along with the tourists come to enjoy the spectacle when it happened: A scream that set her tail bottlebrushing and her whiskers curling. The poodle she’d been reading for barked in alarm and whirled toward the noise. The dog's thin tail whipped the marten’s paws, making her drop the new ice ball she’d been holding.

CRACK.

The sound went mostly unnoticed as more creatures began to screech and howl. Madame tried to back away, but the press of bodies behind as creatures rushed to see what happy horror had elicited such a noise forced her forward.

If it wasn’t to be back, then best get a better forward view. Madame used her cane to crush toes and knock shins, creating a path that she struggled through to the front of the crowd. Everybeast had formed a semi-circle around the coral statues where a husky was screaming and sobbing hysterically, ears flat against her skull, tail between his legs, and blood-stained paws covering her eyes. No one had moved to help or quiet her, and a simple glance over his head to the far wall told Madame why.

There, pinned by an iron spike to the wall, was a cat. His eyes were glazed over and his face was a shredded mess of pink and red.

“Somebeast summon the town guard!” She never thought she’d be calling for the creatures that might toss her in the gallows for a week or two if they ever caught wind of her line of work, but this was just disgusting. She turned to a colorful Akita who looked near to vomiting and ordered, “You, summon the guard!” There were a pair of warrior-looking creatures at his side. A large fox with a long red pony tail also caught her eye. The little white fox had appeared again, as well. How had he managed to worm his way to the front of the spectacle? And why would he even care? “You three,” she said, trying to ignore little fox in favor of the well-armed, well-sighted warriors, “keep these creatures back.” Without waiting to see if any of them would comply, the marten limped toward the husky.

The dog’s screams had dissolved into moans, and Madame knelt beside her, resting a paw on her shoulders. “Now then, darling no need to be upset,” she soothed in her best Domish. “Just think of him as...” The marten trailed off and glanced up at the grotesque, mangled figure. “Think of him as an ugly statue. We have plenty of these around here, yes? It is not so hard. Hmm?”

She leaned in closer after a moment when she realized the dog had mumbled something.

“No one,” the girl whimpered.

“Speak up, my dear.”

“No one will buy them now!” This proclamation drew forth a fresh wave of tears as the dog lunged for the marten, toppling them both over as she sobbed her monetary woes away in Madame’s corset.

“Artists,” Madame sneered.
Last edited by Madame on Tue Jun 12, 2012 4:15 pm, edited 4 times in total.
"It's hard to argue against cynics - they always sound smarter than optimists because they have so much evidence on their side."
~Molly Ivins (R.I.P.)

Extended Signature
My Art on FurAffinity
Kitsunegami
Marquis
Marquis
Posts: 999
Joined: Mon Aug 03, 2009 4:06 pm
Gender: Female
Species: Kitsune

Re: Drawing the Line (Private)

Post by Kitsunegami »

Upon hearing the cries of the Akita, Rook's pupils were drawn from their work, with Rook not too far behind. He started to reprimand them for getting sidetracked, but when he saw the sculpture, his mind shifted backwards, almost immediately into the mindset of a soldier. It was at that time an old marten snapped an order his direction.

(Trade language) "Nasim, Ahri. Tend the crowd, make sure they get no closer until the guards arrive." he said to the pair, who did their best to move the crowd back. Nasim, a particularly intimidating young dragon at times, was not in his best form, distracted by the powerful scent of blood. Ahri, on the other hand, was performing fantastically.

While the two kept the crowd at bay, Rook took a long shaft of wood and stood behind the pair, looking as menacing as he could. One fur decided that he would not be denied, whether a youthful overestimation of his own ability, or out of some morbid fascination with the gruesome scene, he forced his way through the front-most furs and pulled a dagger, threatening Ahri with it.

(Domish) "Stand down pup. If you think you can threaten my students and get away with it. You're sadly mistaken." Rook said, taking a firmer grip on the shaft of wood. The young wolf grinned his nastiest and then rushed towards the bloody mess. Rook took three swift steps, swung twice, landing decisive strikes on the young wolf. One in the hand, sending the blade straight to the ground, and the other to the wolf's knee, dropping the pup to the ground. Rook quickly pinned him down with the heel of his boot, and the wooden pole.
User avatar
RabidFox
The Great Fox
The Great Fox
Posts: 6096
Joined: Wed Mar 15, 2006 1:06 am
Gender: Male
Contact:

Re: Drawing the Line (Private)

Post by RabidFox »

There was all of a sudden a terrible commotion, and Jerome just as suddenly found himself wrapped up in the mess. His employer gestured for him and the malamute to follow, as the triad of them began to approach an unusual sight. What in the bloody hell is going on? The fox wondered to himself, with curiosity. There was a crowd in front of them, and the Akita was forcing his way through. He was the type of dog that always wanted to be the first to lend a helping hand. And then he gasped, and Jerome quickly came to his side to see why. Oh dear bottles of rum! Someone had been— someone had been murdered!

"My god." Jerome breathed through his teeth—The fur stood up all the way down his back and his hand instinctively went to rest on his sword hilt.

A tattered looking pine marten urged the Akita to call the guard. "Certainly, madame." He agreed without hesitation. Turning to his fellow traveling companions, he ordered them in a strong and commanding voice. "Gérald, you come with me. Jerome, you stay here and— give any assistance that you can." And then the two of them, the Akita and the malamute disappeared into the crowd.

Jerome had trouble at first, but he managed to brace himself and stepped up to the scene. The blood caught his eyes immediately and held them in place. He had seen blood many times, but even in his line of work he didn't often seen it on a person. He gulped.

"Ma— madame." He said in as polite a voice as he could muster—It wasn't clear which "madame" he was addressing. "Are you quite alright?"

The red fox thought back to his brothers at the manor, their lives preoccupied with the finer painting of life, the one where nothing truly bad ever really happened, where people forgot that people were people and talked and dined and danced without a care for anyone but themselves. He felt life coming over him like a heavy rain on a gray day.

"I am sorry for your loss." Bouchard managed past the knot in his throat—He did not realize that the woman had nothing to do with the man.

His stare fixed on the fellow's face, the eyes staring off blankly into forever. The young noble wondered when his eyes would have that look in them, and what would someone think when they saw it in his blue irises. The person might not even be able to put a name to him, as his life was going now. The people around him seemed to disappear into his thoughts.
User avatar
Rainwhisker
King
King
Posts: 1938
Joined: Mon Oct 19, 2009 5:26 am
Gender: Male
Species: Lynx canadensis
Location: Travancore/Melbourne, Victoria, Australia

Re: Drawing the Line (Private)

Post by Rainwhisker »

When the screaming started, Luke was idly walking past the crowds to toss glances at several portraits and statues. Nothing ever grabbed his attention - but a slight look away was enough to get him separated from his master. The feline fumed as he waded through several onlookers that were distracted by poorly made pots thrown together, glued and called a masterpiece. But when the shrill cries began - Luke knew something had happened.

A deep sinking feeling suddenly gripped him as he made his way round the square - someone had died. There was no doubt about it - a distinct feeling, that taste of death, that bitter aching pain that came when he could sense someone's life being torn from his corporeal form. Someone had been murdered. But the feeling he felt was different. It made him shake uncontrollably as he walked through a large crowd, and caught a glimpse of a grotesque, horrid scene.

"Master Yvonne!" the calico yowled, his eyes shot wide in shock. He shoved himself through the crowd and forced his way through a dragon, and fell to his knees looking up. Spiked against some rock through his body, with a paper pierced through, dangling with a bloody nose was his master. "M...Master..." Luke shook, paralyzed in place and he could only mutter a few incoherent words. His mind remained a wreck, not paying attention to all that was occurring around him.
Image Image- I pranked/shot Felia. Mwahahaaha!

My Character Compilation
Avatar - Merci @ Duchess!!!! :D

Chat on the IRC!
User avatar
n00b678
Omnipresence
Omnipresence
Posts: 4939
Joined: Sun Dec 17, 2006 6:57 pm
Gender: Male
Species: Fox
Location: Out of this world :p
Contact:

Re: Drawing the Line (Private)

Post by n00b678 »

[An Hour Ago]: As the torn-up pine marten tossed her frosty device toward the arctic fox, the blind creature neatly sidestepped the object, letting it shatter across the stones of the street with a nice, loud shattering noise. The fox regarded the objects direction with a certain huff of disdain before moving on. He couldn't sway this creature, but more importantly, he knew there was no reason to. While it certainly wasn't a nice thing to do, fake fortunes weren't necessarily high crimes in this day and age, and certainly not high enough for Jeric to devote his time to. Perhaps he'd give her a word on the matter later, a little nudge toward a better way of making a profit, but for now, the fox was here to enjoy himself...

[Presently]: Being one with strong senses and a feeling for danger, Jeric actually believed that something was wrong before there was the terrified scream reached the ears of the many visitors that had come to enjoy themselves. It began when a strange scent wafted into his nostrils as he walked toward a particular road he had yet to visit...The scent of blood, not particularly retched... As he neared the street, the scream of the husky confimred his growing suspicion that something was amiss, and upon reaching the scene, Jeric didn't need his sight to know what had happened. Someone had been murdered...

It wasn't long before he was joined by many others, the throng of voices and bodies crushing in, becoming almost unbearable to the arctic nomad, able to recognize some, but mostly a large collection of voices he didn't recognize. He wasn't trying to pay attention to them anyway; he was focusing hard on the smell, that unpleasant odor of someone's lifeforce dripping from their wound and their nose, the stench of death clinging to it. If he could just pinpoint this scent, perhaps there would be traces of it elsewhere. Surely such bloody work like this would leave some trail...

Sadly, there were just too many smells at the moment, the smell of fear and dread being the most prominent. The arctic fox wouldn't gather anything in this crowd. He had to get away from it all. He began to try and push his way out of the throng of people, who were all enclosed in the tight space where the murder took place.
Madame
Duke
Duke
Posts: 1271
Joined: Fri Nov 24, 2006 1:01 pm
Gender: Female
Species: Pine Marten
Location: Out of my mind, please leave a message.
Contact:

Re: Drawing the Line (Private)

Post by Madame »

'I will be fine as soon as you get this sobbing lump off of me,' Madame would have said to the fox. However, a young calico thrusting his way past the perimeter that the larger fox had set up with his companions ruined the opportunity. The cat had a powerful aura of dark magic around him and now that she was paying attention, she sensed tiny tendrils of dark drifting from the dead cat's body. The dregs of a powerful soul left to swirl in the wind.

"Get off," the marten growled instead, shoving at the husky who clung, sniffling, to her midsection. The dog finally relented after a not-so-gentle prod to the side of her head and the pair made it to their feet. The husky rubbed at her face with the back of her paw and stared with red-rimmed eyes at her masterpiece.

Madame shook her head and hobbled over to the fox. "I am well, my dear, and I would wager that one is, too." The Ice Sage pointed to the calico. "It is that cat I'm more concerned about. I think the one up there is his master."

"Will you get him down, then? This is a complete mess." The husky had been eavesdropping.

The marten rolled her eyes and turned to the fox. He looked like the capable sort, if a bit shaken. Circumstances being what they were, though, it was understandable. "I think maybe we should see to that cat, hmm? I am not sure moving the body would be the best idea without the Guard seeing to it. And as we seemed to be working together for the time being, my name is Madame Eyes. You are?"

((OOC: Guys, feel free to auto Madame for small things like a line of dialogue or following after your character if your charrie asks her to. It should make things flow more smoothly.))
Last edited by Madame on Tue Jun 12, 2012 5:41 pm, edited 4 times in total.
"It's hard to argue against cynics - they always sound smarter than optimists because they have so much evidence on their side."
~Molly Ivins (R.I.P.)

Extended Signature
My Art on FurAffinity
User avatar
RabidFox
The Great Fox
The Great Fox
Posts: 6096
Joined: Wed Mar 15, 2006 1:06 am
Gender: Male
Contact:

Re: Drawing the Line (Private)

Post by RabidFox »

Jerome watched in a kind of still, deadened horror as the calico shattered into thin shards of mangled glass. The feline's eyes looked up in agony at a man he called master, and there seemed to be an invisible electricity stirring around his emptied and trembling form. The tabby's mind, his brain, an organ and a thing that no longer possessed a name after being so terribly violated, it had been strewn over the statues like a demonic paint. Little bits of red, of broken nothing. The fox could do little other than stare at it. Bouchard had to take a step back, holding his stomach as he considered making a little artwork of his own.

His throat felt constricted despite that he knew somewhere in the back of his mind that he had been paid to do a job. Perhaps it had been all those fluffy cushions that had pampered his life during his days at the manor, or the fact that he had never seen such a sickeningly colorful sight before. Oh yes, he'd witnessed a corpse or two, even quite a bit of blood, but this— this was unnecessary. Excessive. Forbidding.

"Madame." He found words again. "Oh... yes. Um..." And then they seemed to shrink inside him once more.

"Jerome!" Suddenly the sound of his employer's voice entered his ears, but he did not turn towards it. "Jerome!"

The second call of his name startled him somewhat out of his ghoulish daze. He looked over at the Akita as if he had died himself. The nobleman had returned with the guard, but there was only one of them. Where in the blazing hell was the money going for the city's protection?!

"Help... this man with the body." The sherbet splashed dog—Émeric was his name—he didn't sound well at all.

Jerome was almost offended at the request, forgetting for a moment that dealing with bloody messes was what had been in his contract. It just didn't seem right to him for the man to expect him to do what he felt was the guard's work. Why did he have to get that— that maddening, red, mindless stuff on his hands? It wasn't like the fellow had just been stabbed with a sword, he'd been sprayed all over the alley like an exploded chicken!

Perhaps Émeric had noticed his hesitation. "Gérald will help you. Gérald." The Akita had to turn away and hold his head; Gérald didn't have a choice but to reluctantly step forward.

The Malamute sighed, long and heavy and then he steeled up. "Come on, Jerome."

The guard didn't seem like he wanted to do it either—Who in their damnedest mind would?—but then the two of them began to try to figure out the puzzle of how to get the poor bastard down. Jerome huffed in indignant anger, thinking to himself how the Akita must feel him nothing more than a grateful pawn at the moment. Why couldn't Aquilon find itself a decent mop crew? The fox begrudgingly stepped over to the pair struggling to free the dangling puppet of its strings. Slowly, squinting his eyes, he forced himself to contribute to the effort.

"There ya go! Just like that!" And the tabby came down like a heavy bag of produce. Plop!

Jerome stood back as Gérald and the squeamish guard carried the body over to a hand drawn cart that had been brought with them. The body was fixed onto the cart, and Gérald came back as the guard began to drag it away. The crowd looked on. Some followed. Jerome just frowned at the ugly red stains on his hands and clothes.

"Bastard!" He intended the insult for the creative "artist". "I feel like somebody's wicked canvas!"
User avatar
Rainwhisker
King
King
Posts: 1938
Joined: Mon Oct 19, 2009 5:26 am
Gender: Male
Species: Lynx canadensis
Location: Travancore/Melbourne, Victoria, Australia

Re: Drawing the Line (Private)

Post by Rainwhisker »

Luke just sat and watched as his master's body was carried away. He was still speechless - and oblivious to what was going around him, either. His eyes flickered between disbelief and pure shock. Nothing could have prepared him for such a grizzly...murder - let alone his Master for a target. All he could mouth was, "Why?" He slumped, staring at the cobblestone. Someone - someone he KNEW. No, he wasn't going to hide it now - he regarded as a friend, a tutor, someone he could respect - gone, taken, his soul wrenched from his body. He sobbed for brief minutes, oblivious to everyone around him, then he stood, yelling out. "Who did this?" he roared at a random fur. A few just stood frightened and other furs took steps back in fear. Luke wanted to yell some more, but there was no words he could even think of shouting out. This strange feeling inside him was something he could not talk back to - and Luke knew NOTHING has ever stopped him from doing so. And this only frightened the calico further.
Image Image- I pranked/shot Felia. Mwahahaaha!

My Character Compilation
Avatar - Merci @ Duchess!!!! :D

Chat on the IRC!
Kitsunegami
Marquis
Marquis
Posts: 999
Joined: Mon Aug 03, 2009 4:06 pm
Gender: Female
Species: Kitsune

Re: Drawing the Line (Private)

Post by Kitsunegami »

Rook looked over at the cat as he sobbed, he started to walk away when the fur abruptly stood and shouted. Rook stopped and turned back to the fur. (Domish)"Young lad. You need to calm yourself down. If you don't, you may rush off and do something stupid. That is no way to avenge your friend, or what ever his association to you was." Rook placed a firm paw on the cat's shoulder, hopefully reassuring him, then looked to his pupils. (Trade Language)"You two still have some work to do. You two are doing well, let's not lose steam now. I'll take this lad back to the Inn, then speak with the guards."

(Domish)"So, lad, what's your name?" the fox asked the cat, directing him away from the scene of the incident.
Locked