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Jarred NightThorne Profile
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Re: 2011 Season Closer


Jarred’s head breaks the surface and the relief of breath is so sweet it's like being born all over again, breaking out from a tiny dark watery world into a huge boundless one of air and space. He gasps and splutters, flailing one arm to stay afloat. The other cannot move and hangs uselessly down by his side. It's so cold. He's lost his gloves under the water and the bare skin on his hands hurts with the temperature. Focus. Forget the cold. Get out of here. Get out or you'll freeze to death.
As he tries to swim, the pain in his shoulder changes from a sting to a boiling seethe. Thin bloody trails float on the water behind him as he flounders and flaps, kicking frantically. The water sucks at his opened veins, a strange, sweet drain. He's not cold any more, the pain keeps him warm. He can't feel his feet, but that's alright. More arrows splash into the water around him. He kicks faster and soon they're too far away. He swims with the current, downriver towards Eastport and the factories. His arm is on fire but the rest of him is going numb. His sodden clothes are like lead and his one good arm catches in the strap of his quiver as he forces himself to keep going. It's so tempting to let go, to sag into the water and become one with the flotsam and the bones and the lost things on the weedy riverbed. A tiny light on the shore calls him like a beacon and he grits his teeth, aiming for it, his survival instincts shouting louder than his protesting muscles and the agony in his shoulder and the dear, hopeless longing for a peaceful watery grave.
The light on the shoreline is a lantern held by a woman. About six feet away from her, he gets bogged down in the swampy mud of the shallows. His knees sink and his cloak tangles around him. By now he's too weak and tired to fight. He just has time to let out one strangled, wordless cry before his head goes under and he swallows water. She wades in towards him, up to her knees, up to her thighs. Her arms haul him relentlessly upwards, his injured shoulder screams as she pulls on it and he jerks free of the mud with a squelch. On the stony shoreline, gasping and retching up the dirty water he swallowed. He falls to his knees, then his side. His arm will not support him anymore. He's covered in blood and slime, lying on the pebbles. It's so cold. The last thing he feels before he shuts down is her hands turning him over onto his back and snapping off the shaft of the arrow, leaving the head buried in his flesh like a burning metal bone.

********

Fire. Fire and smoke filled the streets of Car Cirbon. The sneak attack planned with the Senegals went off without a hitch; however the Jewel Hunters were not so easily
overran. The battle taking place was not something anticipated, nor was the losses Jarred was taking.
"Jarred, They've figured out that we've drugged most of their guards, and have pushed our men back inside the barracks and storehouses. The Senegals are making ground quickly, but I fear that we may not have any living by the time they take the docks."
"Thank you Lemnock. Tell Nada to take his group and sweep the barrens, being as obvious as possible. Have them swing wide and around to the east, and lead as many of the bastards into those Barbarians... while they kill each other, I'll save as many of the men as I can. Our job here is done. Let them fight it out as they may."-

********


---
I'm going to take whatever you haven't nailed down... Nevermind... I'll take that too.
11/11/2011, 5:15 pm Link to this post Send Email to Jarred NightThorne   Send PM to Jarred NightThorne
 
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Re: 2011 Season Closer


Years have passed since Jarred was thrust into this hell. The wound in his shoulder has the itchy tightness of scarred flesh. He has found out where the guards have put his gear: in a closet off the hallway leading to the front door, beyond which lies he knows not what. Stairs probably, then there will be a door to a street he won’t be able to recognize, the listless gloom of the industrial areas unfamiliar streets. He curses himself daily for never bothering to come to Hithdor.
He hears the door open, then shut, and Elena, the only guard who’s been kind to him, comes in with snow in her hair. Her boots crunch with frost as she walks with a torch, using it to light a fire in the nearby brazier and stands in front of it, toasting her hands gratefully. He looks up at her, wondering how a Parparthian woman can stand this kind of weather. Her small, delicate frame is not built for harsh winds and blizzards; it's built for humid, sultry heat. She lets her hair spill out of its braid and it hangs down her back in tangled curls like a dark waterfall. She smiles at him.
“You look better today.”
“I knew you were coming.” Jarred said with a smirk.
“Those herbs seem to be working. You heal up remarkably fast, you know. A week ago you were at death's door.”
He shrugs one shoulder, not trusting the other one to stay joined-up. He wonders exactly what kind of herbs she's been using on him, and why the stitches are so damn scratchy. Dirty needle? Lovely...
“Where did you learn medicine?”
“Part of my job. It's not as exciting as yours, but then few jobs are.”
'What do you do?'
“I never told you? Oh. I used to be a thief with the Downwinders in Gohithica, but I got bored of swiping old ladies' handbags. I became a go-between. I fenced for a bit, I ran a black-market apothecary, and I did the occasional burglary job on the side when the going gets tough. Nothing major, Not like you. Till one day I was brought a wounded Hithdorian Commander, who had gotten stabbed several times in a brothel. Girls figured a dead soldier in the redlight district would shine all kinds of unhealthy light, so I fixed him up. When he came to, he more or less conscripted me. Been here ever since…”
Ignoring the flattery, he shakes his head, frowning. “How come I've never heard of you? I know all the fences on this continent.”
“I worked for Ramirez's people, and since the RedStreet Riots of Gohitica, Ramirez hasn’t been amongst the living. And once he died I cut myself loose. I never wanted to work for a Warden again, it's awful.'
He nods. Too right. Still, a strange coincidence, to be guarded by an ex-con just as he's looking for someone whom he can manipulate, a little too convenient to be genuine.


---
I'm going to take whatever you haven't nailed down... Nevermind... I'll take that too.
11/11/2011, 5:16 pm Link to this post Send Email to Jarred NightThorne   Send PM to Jarred NightThorne
 
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Re: 2011 Season Closer


'Where did you operate?'
'Eastport. Round the back of the old cathedral.'
An extremely unlikely story, those were the !@#$ docks. Where the worst bastards that hell ever spat back out worked. The ones that Jarred would NEVER allow into the guild, Mafia gangsters and Assassins. He knew that there was something she's wasn’t telling him, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. All he knew is that it wass starting to bug him. He can't place her at all. He would have heard of a female fence – they're rare enough – but a female fence from Gohithica?
“I’d applaud you for your attention to detail miss. But my hands are bound. You’ve got quite a tale there, but I’m not gona buy it.”
She shrugs, laughing.
“Well, Thief King, believe what you like. But it begs the question... why would I rescue you from the previous guards, give up my previous post for you, heal your wounds, all the while endangering my carreer, if I wasn't on your side?”
She's right. Unless she has some kind of a death wish, no ordinary soldier would do this. He looks around her room, crowded with bottles of potion, jars of herbs, strange alchemical equipment, books, dishes, clothing and the miscellaneous clutter of a busy person's life. She's obviously not an ordinary soldier, but he hasn't got much else to go on.
“Alright… I'll trust you for now.”
“Good. I wouldn't like you not to trust me.”
He raises an eyebrow, but says nothing. She sits down at the table, flinging her cloak over the back of the chair. He notices as the herbs begin to take him back into the black oblivion, that she has a remarkably good figure.


********


"YOU DID WHAT?!" Baron Cassius, leader of the Scarlet Fangs.
"I left the city to the Barbarians. We have no need of it, and besides, what was worth taking was taken during the raid. So what purpose would occupying it have for us?" Jarred smirked, "Unless you fancy yourself a politician Cassius."
Baron Cassius Foust head of the Eastern Guild Front stands in front of Jarred NightThorne at the center of the House of Cards. The once great treetop citadel of the Guild of Thieves was the epicenter of planning, politics and trade. Surrounded by the Thieves Council, every man and woman shout to be heard.


---
I'm going to take whatever you haven't nailed down... Nevermind... I'll take that too.
11/11/2011, 5:16 pm Link to this post Send Email to Jarred NightThorne   Send PM to Jarred NightThorne
 
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Re: 2011 Season Closer


“We should have kept it. A port city under our control would have given us the ability to move goods faster, and with our own ships, instead of paying those infernal pirates. And it would have proved a strategic staging area while we progressed on our campaign.” Cassius spoke with more venom than a cobra.
Jarred raises an arched eyebrow at this. “Our campaign? We're not an army Cassius, nor are we conquerors. We haven’t the skill, the soldiers, the knowledge nor the supplies to wage a war. We’d be decimated before we even got started. Besides, even if we had all of those things I'm not interested in ruling countries or continents if your eyes are that big. No, our place is the shadows, from alleyways and rooftops, sewers and forests do we rule.” Jarred turns around to walk out of the Council hall saying: “The night is our domain and from there we shall stay.”
A rage bursts out of Foust far larger than required by the current debate. "Who says you have to be in charge?!"

Jarred stops. "…are you challenging me Foust?"

"No, I'm just voicing the opinions of those who tire of following the orders of an absent king."
Jarred turns and faces Cassius. "Any man here who has a problem with the way I run things can grow a pair and say so themselves. You have no right to speak for them."

The Council hall goes silent

"Now if there's nothing else pressing... I'll be in my chambers."

********

"Jarred!"

Jarred wakes up and smells smoke. "What is it Lemnok?"

"Civil war… They’ve set the House of Cards ablaze!" answered a very agitated Lemnok.

"Dammit Foust... Give me my bow."

"Sir, they're coming after you. You have to go... If they catch you, then Foust will have his Coup! "

"Well... I guess it's a good time as any to visit family."

********


“You won't miss him,” a thick gravelly voice says next to her. She jumps and wheels round.


---
I'm going to take whatever you haven't nailed down... Nevermind... I'll take that too.
11/11/2011, 5:17 pm Link to this post Send Email to Jarred NightThorne   Send PM to Jarred NightThorne
 
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Re: 2011 Season Closer


“I thought I told you not to come here?”
“Council don't trust you enough to deal with this on your own. Think you're wavering, Elena. This job is not for those who waver, so we're here to make sure you're as good as your word.”
She is silent. The two men emerge, at last, with a thin figure in black, walking with a slight limp. They're all waiting for him, the Council, ominous black pillars in their dark clothes and masked faces. Pretty soon he's suspended between two of them, his legs dragging, all the fight beaten out of him by fists and feet and truncheons. His face is bloody, nose broken, lip split, but his uneven eyes burn out at her with a mixture of anger, dismay and, worse, resignation. She can only watch as they drag him outside and throw him in the wagon, bolting the door. He clings to the barred window, still staring at her. During the whole ordeal, he made not a sound. Some of them shout and curse and pray, but he is totally silent. She wonders if he'll ever speak again.
That's not the end of it. They make her attend his interrogation. Why they need to interrogate him, she doesn't know, but they do it anyway. The red-hot pokers down the soft skin on the inside of his arms, the horse-whip flaying his back to ribbons as he's tied to a backless chair. Worst of all, the rack, his scrawny frame arching and twisting in pain as his joints are slowly stretched further and further. It takes dislocation of both shoulders before he finally breaks his silence, his mouth cracking in a tormented scream, words pouring out like a flood. Yes, I killed Karras. Yes, I killed Constantine, and Truart, and all of them, whatever you say, please just make it stop.

********



"What can you offer me that would make me care about your situation Thief King?" An imposing figure, clad in leather, blackened chain and bloody purple vestments asks from behind a huge desk.

"The Guild is currently wracked with Civil unrest. Various Factions have sprung up all over the area. The Black Hand run by Baron Foust controls everything from Cair Cirbon and to the east. There are the Faithful; loyalists to the old ways. And Gohithica runs itself like old times again. I can get you into the Redskin forest, past the traps and into all of the storehouses. All I want is my notebooks. More gold for your army, more provisions for your troops, and one more thing you can add to your list of deeds."

"One Hundred men" replied Asashi

"More than enough."

********


---
I'm going to take whatever you haven't nailed down... Nevermind... I'll take that too.
11/11/2011, 5:17 pm Link to this post Send Email to Jarred NightThorne   Send PM to Jarred NightThorne
 
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Re: 2011 Season Closer


Jarred was hit. Hard. "I SAID WAKE UP"
He reached his hand to his face. Or tried to rather, his hands wouldn't reach more than about a foot off of the wall he was chained to.
"Are you awake now, scum?" Said the obviously happy Hithdorian guard.
"Yes" Jarred said weakly, first of all, because he wanted to sound weak, and second, and probably more importantly because he was.
"Good", the guard smiled "just wanted to congratulate you on your Trial date. The smile turning into a sadistic grin, he continues. Or perhaps I should more accurately say execution date. Tomorrow night you have a date with the devil"
Jarred gave a sarcastic grin back. And before he could get out his clever snarky remark, received a nice, firm punch to the stomach.
"Your dead", the guard warned.
What’s new? Jarred thought... God, even my eyes hurt.
He blinked a few times, and regained his correct vision just in time to see the guard turn on his heel and walk away. With just enough strength to lift his head, Jarred looked around. Nothing good...


********
The bell tolled thrice, a crowd a gathers in the Hithdor, in the square outside City Hall. Peasants crowding and jostling at the front, and further back some wooden benches have been erected for the nobility, who if anything are watching more eagerly than the workers. A guard opens the door of his cell. He's lying on his face on the cold floor, stripped to the waist.
'It's time. Get up.'
The guard hauls him to his feet. He doesn't protest. To come all this way and then be tricked by the oldest con in the book, a two-faced woman. He's been here before, but now he's truly run out of aces. Another guard walks behind him. His hands are bound behind his back and they lead him out; out into the weak pale sunlight of his last morning. Crowds bay for his blood behind the fence. The man in the black hood stands by the gallows, holding the axe. He could lose his head, he could scream and curse and weep, but he's not going to. He hasn't wept since he was twelve years old. Memories flit randomly through his head and he pushes them away. There's nothing left. He had a good run, but this is the end. His luck had to run out somewhere.


Last edited by Jarred NightThorne, 11/11/2011, 7:07 pm


---
I'm going to take whatever you haven't nailed down... Nevermind... I'll take that too.
11/11/2011, 5:18 pm Link to this post Send Email to Jarred NightThorne   Send PM to Jarred NightThorne
 
Ame Corthos Profile
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Re: 2011 Season Closer


As a Hithdorian myself, I look forward to spilling your blood, you criminal scum.

Tomorrow, justice shall be done.

---
Conflict is inevitable. Victory is not.
11/11/2011, 6:25 pm Link to this post Send Email to Ame Corthos   Send PM to Ame Corthos
 
Labadamier Profile
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Re: 2011 Season Closer


Fun event guys! Whhhheeeeeewwwwwt

It's just too bad Jarred wasn't there...

Last edited by Labadamier, 11/13/2011, 12:45 am


---
Labad-

"The Eastern Inventor"
11/12/2011, 11:08 pm Link to this post Send Email to Labadamier   Send PM to Labadamier
 
Acecia Profile
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Re: 2011 Season Closer


I second that! I had a great time emoticon Good fighting and great feast (thanks for the excellent vegetarian option and delicious cake!)

---
Acecia Solas, Order of the Drunk Monk
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Artain Profile
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Re: 2011 Season Closer


really great event! I'm glad I went. Thank you imperial guard for keeping the event close to us Ohians. I enjoyed all of the battles, and enjoyed the pace of the fights, the sportsmanship of your attendees, and the generosity of the event planners.

I wanted to also tell the weapons checkers that I respect their decision to turn down two of my pole arms due to flex. After I got home last night I did the test on my spear myself and the core broke. I know you may not have been sensitive to it, but I'm glad you guys acted responsibly and knew the limits of the weapon even better than me.

Finally, I wanted to put the word out there that I left my unique hat on the easterly battlefield during the last ditch fights. I stumbled off the field somewhat intoxicated on a good day of fighting, and I must have left it there. If anyone collected it, I would be happy to provide a reward for its return.

-Artain
11/13/2011, 8:43 pm Link to this post Send Email to Artain   Send PM to Artain
 


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