The Life and Times of Trapper Wind [NC-17]

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Re: The Life and Times of Trapper Wind [NC-17]

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Pictures are linked from Isborj's Gallery on Deviant Art. She loves NWN2 art and an exceptional artist.
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Re: The Life and Times of Trapper Wind [NC-17]

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“Waaaa! Waaaa!”

From under the bar in from her cradle drawer, little Rosa cried, rose bud lips wide. Her dark blonde curls wreathed her chubby baby head and her fists flexed and clutched at the air. Trapper Wind had two large trays balanced expertly on each arm as her Mama piled on plates of meat, cheese, trenchers of bread, sugared compotes, and bowls of cream.

“Of all the days for two full ships to come to port and at the dinner hour! Dammit!” she swore with a grumble as the late winter storms had driven ships destined for Caer Calidyrr into Corwell's smaller port.

The sailors grumbled and chatted away, as her waitress busied herself with dodging pinches and filling ale mugs like a swaying aspen. Trapper rushed over with Mama in tow, four trays of victuals in hand as they roared in hunger for fresh foods.

Meanwhile, Rosa still cried, her face red now. A little silver fire licked up from her fingers as she flailed and searched over the bar till it found a Cthul-rubber tipped glass bottle full of goat's milk, circled around it, and floated it down to her waiting mouth just as Trapper rushed back to the bar with wide eyes trying to block the view.

“No no no..not again.!” She took up the bottle and the silver fire retreated as Rosa looked up with bright eyes which had been slowly darkening since she was born, sucking contentedly. Trapper leaned down to whisper to the babe,“I know ya don' understand me yet, Rosa-girl but you can't use magic in front of the common folk. If they find out you are the source, they gonna try to take you away from me.” Trapper kissed the top of her forehead with dark lips and looked around slowly.

Mama Annie was out there sporting with the sailor folk, serving them food and pouring drinks. Deddy was gone for the week so a few local bards were up on the stage earnestly playing at old stringed violins and homemade drums hoping to earn a bit from the big crowd. She felt like the walls were straining with all these customers and hoped the food would last till breakfast and the tide came in. She picked Rosa up in strong protective arms and slipped her into a baby sling and strode downstairs.

“Windsun?” she looked around then unwrapped her apron, and stepped down into the basement apartment of the rustic inn. There curled up on his bed, the four-year-old sat, sorting through little grey piles of seeds, a tray of soil in front of him on the floor. His face was oddly serious and Trapper slid to curl behind him.

“Playin' with your seeds again eh?”

Gruffly “I can't play Rosa here. She eat seeds.”

“You been real patient, but when she cries, Mama needs your help Windsun.”

“Baby is good; she no need me.” he touched a seed gently and it popped out a small sprout, it's brown skin splitting.

The retired ranger licked her lips uneasily as he planted the seed the tray and looked up to her. “Love mama best, no need baby 'round.” He leaned back into her lap pushing Rosa's sling to the side. Rosa's eyes popped open and she stared around with a burp.

Trapper whispered softly “Iss'at so? Rosa might have to go away someday. I don't know if we will ever get anymore babies to come live here once that happens.”
“Rosa go away?” his face was confused now.

His mother nodded, her dark bangs falling over her face. “Ya but for now, she's our gift and if she's here long enough she will grow big so you will have a friend to play with that is not a critter or some wrinkled old druid.” She smiles and tickled him lightly.

“You are my first son and my best son and no one will ever replace that.”
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Re: The Life and Times of Trapper Wind [NC-17]

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"They found him in the Fens, Annie. This receipt says here, he was stayin' in your Inn. Do ya have anythin' that'll let me know where he come from? A wallet? Papers?"

The large bar mistress looked uneasily over at her daughter dressed in a spare pair of mens pants and a work shift, her pony tail bobbing. There she was fixing a broken chair seat with a hammer and nails. Trapper hammered away, looking up to stare at the Guardswoman, then shrugged and started on another upholstery nail.

"Keep it down. Look you are welcome to go through his chest in the hostel. Jus' keep it down eh?"

The guardswoman and her two deputies headed up stairs and Trapper walked over, nails in her mouth, carpenter's apron around her waist, hammer in one hand.

"What they be wantin' Mama?" Her gray eyes shifted to the stairs.

"Oh one of the guests turned up dead in the Fens Trap. Another fool, another soul for down below."

Annie took up her plump hand and polished the already clean bar moreso. She mumbled something.

"Mama? Don't mumble so..you want a penny?"

"No. Look ya promise you won't get in one of your moods?"

Trapper shrugged, her face impassive. "Out with it Mama."

"It was the Finney-lad. The lovesick one from last week."

Trap spun around on one heel as if someone slapped her, then leaned over the bar till her forehead touched the polished wood and wax.

"Finley was his name Mama. Dear Gods, he was near the same age as me."

Arms over her head, forehead to the wood she swore, her anger growing with every word.

"Mama i'm going out for awhile. I'll be back in a day. You can pay Anna or Bettina to watch the kids. But I am goin' out."

As her Mama stood there dumbfounded, Trapper dropped her tools, and returned from downstairs with her gear, hastily dressed in her armor, and arrows bristling from two quivers.

***

Trapper Wind, Ranger of Shaundakul, drew her longsword down one more time, and twisted the blade through the eye socket of another Firbolg. Greasy fires raged at the ventilation drafts of the caves, stifling the creatures in a suffocating black smoke, and causing them one by one to jam into the entry to escape. And one by one Trapper picked them off with hard uncaring shafts, targeted to eye, to throat, and to chest, as the pile grew and grew.

The figure in black fired relentlessly. It didn't matter her bow arm was a little stiff. All that mattered the locus of control; how the center of her being was set on the complete eradication of one more reminder she would never have love and that everything dies.

A few hours later, the smoke had cleared the air and the dark figure, now sinister and a vehicle for genocide to the Firbolgs. She climbed to the top of the pile of bodies, flicked stone and metal, and lit a slim-stemmed pipebowl of pipeweed. A sullen rain dripped over her cloaked form and she pulled her hood down over her eyes, and puffed silently as dawn came rising with a barely noticeable lightness.
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Re: The Life and Times of Trapper Wind [NC-17]

Post by dergon darkhelm »

Thumbs up to that! :)
PCs: NWN1: Trailyn "Wayfarer" Krast, Nashkel hayseed

NWN2: ??

gsid: merado_1
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Re: The Life and Times of Trapper Wind [NC-17]

Post by Riotnrrd »

This story reminds me of the 'fall' of Anakin Skywalker...
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Re: The Life and Times of Trapper Wind [NC-17]

Post by Heero »

Nice, CD! I shall pour a sip for Finley.
Heero just pawn in game of life.

12.August.2013: Never forget.
15.December.2014: Never forget.

The Glorious 12.August.2015: Always Remember the Glorious 12th.
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Re: The Life and Times of Trapper Wind [NC-17]

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10 evil points to Gryffindor.
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Re: The Life and Times of Trapper Wind [NC-17]

Post by Witchdoctor »

Somewhere along the wall of the faithless, a lone tear makes it's heartbreaking journey ever downward. Those miserable wretches unfortunate enough to be touched by it's passing, wake from their endless stupor and groan in agony as the rememberance of lost love wreaks havoc on their tortured existence.

Bravo CD
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Re: The Life and Times of Trapper Wind [NC-17]

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“Binsun?!” a chubby lip trembled and pouted outward at the entrance to the Corwell Druid circle.

“Bye Rosie, goin' to lessons. Now don't cry. I'll be back in a few hours. Smile for me?”

Windsun Blackbough, at nearly six seasons old, stood charmingly poised, framed by the trees, his bookbag around his arm and shoulder in close brown leathers. His longish straight black hair framing his fine Elven features and shrouding his ears. He wasn’t a very big boy compared to the humans, but you could see by his arms and legs he had much growing to do in him. The half-elven boy smiled and leaned down to brush the baby's cheek with the back of his brown hand.

“Mama are you sure you gotta do this? She's so happy and I like the tricks she does. She made me butterflies when I was feelin' low.”

The toddler's lips turned up as she wiped away her tears. Her gold curls framed a chubby face with dark eyes and thick lashes, as she wobbled on two feet, holding on to his mother's careful long calloused finger.

“Windsun Blackbough. Last week she burned a hole in tha' floor because I told her no about havin' a cookie 'fore dinnah. What if that was people she burned? They'd kick us out of town and we'd have no house, thas what! Don't worry I won' let that crazy ol' man hurt her none. Say buh-bye now Rosa. We be back later to pick him up. You and me got an ship to make.”

“Bye-bye” she warbled and squeezed his finger.

The woman, dark of skin, was wrapped up in sooty leathers and knapsack, with a Ffolkish cloak. She leaned down and encircled the child in two lank arms and huffed as she picked her up, sliding her into the scoop of the babysling. Her long black hair was braided tight to her head but even then the child snaked out a quick arm to give it a yank and tangle her little fingers in it.

"Oof! Rosie-girl you are getting big as a sucklin' pig!"

“Traapa!” she crowed tugging her braids like reigns, all sadness forgotten, as Trapper Wind, a simple Innkeeper or Corwell town boarded a small ship for the south.

“You gonna see some funnah stuff lil' Rosa-girl so 'member to not remember. I suspect you are too young anyhow.”

Hours later Trapper muttered to herself and produced a biscuit of Arrowroot, good for teething, and let Rosa gnaw on it to a spitty pulp. She took up Rosa and then took up a great stone in the other hand. Nodding to the grizzled old boatman, she jumped overboard.

*SPLASH!*

They were underwater just briefly and then lightly as a feather her feet touched ground and she walked into clean air. Rosa sputtered and started to cry loudly, startled as all the rocks around Trapper began to vibrate and shudder with her unhappiness.

“No no no! Good girl, good baby, see we are safe and sound. Don't have a tantrum. Please calm down for ol' Trapper. Look look, another cookie!” she wigged the cookie around frantically as the rocks trembled and floated now a few inches off the sea floor around them.

A door slammed at a near-by tower, its texture encrusted with white coral. A gruff voice called it

“What is all this then? Something is disturbing the sea shield ! Dammit you imbeciles get out here and help me stabilize this...”

“Waa-waaa-waaa!” The toddler wailed loudly as rocks started flying in every direction, as Trapper held on tight and ducked her head.

“...baby.”

Later...

“So with this necklace is going to get rid of her powers?”

“No no, simple woman, this necklace will create a persistent anti-magic zone just around little Rosa until she is old enough to take proper lessons and learn to control herself.”

The grizzled old wizard lifted up the golden cable necklace, made to small to be pulled off and welded it in place with a flick of his fingers.

“You will bring her back as she grows and I will add links to it. I also want to keep abreast on her progress. She is a very special girl you know. Very precious to those of my persuasion and our world in fact. You are sure you won't leave her here with me and my people? The ocean kingdom is a fine place to raise a child?”

“I cannae do it Mister Flamsterd. I promised her papa I would take good care of her and I will. Someday he might come back and want her, and I mean for her to be there when that time comes.”

“Trapper Wind, you heed my words. If that child falls into the wrong hands, the nine hells could break loose. Guard her well. And when she is of five years, take her to those boobs at the Council of Wizards in Calidyrr. Perhaps they have a passable teacher for her. Now for my payment?”

Trapper sighed and pulled out a box and opened it for him to see. Rosa toddled around the room, then crawled around on all fours, leaning down to lick at the arcane circle melded into the stone floor. The old wizard cackled and snapped the box up from Trapper's hand as she turned to scoop up the child and felt the enchantments of her gear fade.

“I suppose this is the price I hafta pay for having a safe household.”

“Wait till you see her get near a Sunite and negate their many enhancements!” he cackled and then sent them on their merry way back to the surface with pockets full of butter clams and many more admonitions to keep the baby safe.

Once Trapper was gone, he moved to a glass orb the size of a small melon filled with brown clouds. Casting a few words he was able to see a clear image of Trapper smiling down and landing them both in the skiff waiting above. He waved his hand over it to, removed something from his finger, and set a gold ring on the shelf with a curt nod.

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Re: The Life and Times of Trapper Wind [NC-17]

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"Mama she won't stop crying!" the little boy hugged his little foster sister to him, down in the basement apartment of Trapper's Hold, a bustling Inn of Corwelltown that faced the half-moon bay advantageously.

It was midnight and a cold wild wind whipped around the Inn creaking the walls and rattling the shutters.

Rosa's small toddler face was crumpled and red, she clutched a fancy doll, the doll had blonde curls of real hair, dark eyes, and was dressed in the newest fashion, carved by one of the finest craftsmen in Waterdeep. She hugged it in her arms was shaking with tired exhaustion unable to speak.

He had brought it to her, many months ago, as he came through, again like the wind through Corwell, to tease and spoil her for a few weeks, then off again like a game of peek-a-boo. Now the happy man she called Daddy was there, now he was not. The little girl knew the game. He would leave and she would cry because she wanted him to stay forever.

And then Trapper would tell her Daddy was off to a magical place called Baldur's Gate where he was big important warrior of note. Then she would hold up one of Windsun's toy soldiers and a toy dragon and make them have a fight where the Daddy figure stabbed the dragon in the heart and then saved the princess Rosa.

But as the night had whispered and rattled on in the code that storms speak, she lay resting in her crib. Tucked in carefully, doll in arms, she had felt a kiss on her cheek, a familiar tender bristly kiss of lips and a subtle stroke over her hair, as a wind strong and protective washed over her small body, ruffling papers, and knocking loose things asunder.

And then it was gone.
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Re: The Life and Times of Trapper Wind [NC-17]

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http://youtu.be/pzZYy5Rh1VA

A small foot crunched into the snow,then another, and another. The little girl giggled and looked back at the heart shape she had made. All around the front of the inn was her tiny boot marks in the fresh snow in patterns of flowers, hearts, and sun shapes. Then giggling with glee, she ran forward and jumped deep into a snowbank up to her waist and fell straight into the flower bed around the Inn. Her oiled sealskin boots and bright red woolen snow coat sunk under, leaving only her pink little face and bright red cap exposed to the pale light filtering through a thin layer of clouds in the cool morning air.

She heard laughter and the scuffling of boots, as well as the morning bell ringing eight echoing times. Nearby the boats docked lay off kilter, grounded in the low low tide, as sheets of ice made eerie tunnels into the half-moon bay of Corwell. Below fields of shinning black mussels were exposed as well as the sea anemones which were closed up tight as a thief's lips.

Rosa wailed for a moment there, crying out to a group of women well wrapped in bright cloaks of wool and oil cloth, hammers worn prominently on their belts. They pulled themselves along with long staves capped with metal spikes. They clucked their tongues at Rosa annoyed and clutched their large woven baskets, then headed down into the exposed bay. Rosa crossed her arms and struggled in the rose bush she had fallen into and cried louder. phist!

Then came the laughter of a group of children. And then a soft snowball hit her in the noggin. She bawled louder, “Help! I stuck! Help please!.” Inside her chest she felt a great rising of something and then phist, another snowball spanked her cheek, exhausting that feeling, as the little girl let out a cry of utter woe. The laughter and jeers of many children filled her ears. “The baby is stuck! Let's get her!” Another rain of snowballs pelted the wall of the Inn of Trapper's Hold and rained down on little Rosa.

She struggled and clawed to get out of the bush but the thorns held her tight. Sobbing she beat her fist against the wall of the Inn. Then suddenly the barrage stopped and there was the sound of screams, muffled blows, and the scattering of footsteps.
Rosa raised up on her toes, still unable to see what entirely was going on in her deep hole. A hand reached out, then two, and then four and she was pulled up and out of the bushes, a few holes torn in her new coat.

Two children, maybe five or six years old, stood over her. The tall one, wrapped in brown woolens, and a bright yellow scarf around their neck, reached down and brushed her off quickly. The smaller one, green eyes glowing through a dark gray scarf put their arm around her and whispered softly, “Are you all right?”

Rosa looked up with her warm brown eyes eager, “Did you scare those bad kids away from me?”
“Ya we did. Punched the leader in the nose, I did.” the taller one grunted towards her, steel gray eyes again pale gray skin, rolled over to her.
“Are you new here? I've never seen you before.”
The shorter one smiled, and in a soft boyish voice replied, “Aye, yes. We just moved here from Baldur's Gate.”
Rosa's mouth dropped open, “That is where me daddy an' mommy is! Maybe you see them there? He called Jonathan and my mommy is Madeline.”
The taller one growled, “We seen a lot of people in Baldur's Gate.”
The shorter one looked around and pulled the yellow scarf from their face. A boyish grin, with eyes of jade green, against a face decidedly Elven peered at her, curls of loose blond poking through the wrapper of wool around his head.

Rosa's dark lashes closed and she stammered sadly, “I..I..I..don't remember. Maybe if you come inside Mama Trapper can tell you about them. I just remember them being there. I remember his hugging me. I remember he had a happy smile.” There was a bare flicker of disdain from the taller one and the smaller one patted her again, “Don't feel bad little girl. We don't remember our parents either. Not one little thing.” The child's voice lowered.
“I'm Rosa, I live over here in Trapper's Hold. Not a little girl,” she replied firmly.

“Ah. I am Lucky and this is Artemus. We live right next door, here.” He thumbed over to the tall narrow building that was jammed between the Hold and the Coster warehouse. The door was adorned with a red and yellow shield with a sword thrust down over it. There was a wide rectangular door cut into the foot of it on hinges which she knew was for sliding unwanted babies through in the night.

“The priests just let us out for the holiday so they can be free to pluck the mussels for the Midwinter feast.”
The taller one nodded, “All day long, all we do is train. They say it is good for us to start so early. And that Tempus will watch over us so we can keep others from getting like us. Was glad to get out and have a real scuffle.”
Lucky smiled, “Priest gave us each a copper! So I was thinkin' what could I buy with a copper for Midwinter?”
Rosa giggled, “Well, mussels are free. But there is a shopkeeper that keeps apples over winter. You could buy five apples for that. Or you could buy a mess of buns from the baker.”
The young elfin-looking boy licked his thin lips, “It'd sure beat soup and porridge.” The larger boy nodded, his mouth a firm line.

“Or why don't you come inside and Mama will just give us some pies. She will. I know it.” Rosa grabbed them both by the arms, and dragged them over to the door of the Inn, pulled it open with all her might, and showed them inside.
From the counter Big Annie looked down, ale in one hand, and loomed over the three children. “So I see we got some customers now, eh? Whadda'ya want there Miss Rosa and company?”
The two orphans took a step back, preparing to run.

“Plate of pies Mama Annie! Pleeease!” Rosa smiled up with rosy cheeks sweetly.
“Take off ye coats and dry them by the fire, ya drippin' all over tha' rug. I'll have Trap bring ya up some supper with the rest of ev'ryoneelses”

The large-busted woman leaned her head down the stairwell behind the bar and hollered loudly about the pies. Rosa took off her red coat, laid it out by the fire. The other two very slowly took off their coats.

Lucky took off his hat revealing slightly pointed ears and the other kept on his thinner skin cap. The skin cap was just a rectangle sewn into a sack then pulled tight down around his chin, and giving the appearance of floppy ears on the top of Artemus's head. She could see he was a strange looking child, with pale skin and eyes with pupils not exactly round, faintly like a cat. He shrugged away from her stare and turned bashfully, then looked around to peer at the Inn.

Ongoing was a small party of sailors in the corner whom were busy eating smoked fowl, bowls of mushrooms, ripened cheese, piles of pies, and great pitchers of the house ale. They smoked, farted, burped, and laughed roughly while the barmaid smiled sweetly as saint and kept the table full. At the stage Deddy again had appeared to play a few rousing sea shanties though his eyes slid over to Rosa from time to time and her two friends.

She sat down by the fire, motioning them to join her, pulled off her sealskin boots, and toasted her frozen toes on the warm bricks.
“You live here, with that big lady then? An' she's not your mama?”
“Oh that is me Mama Annie, she is Mama Trapper's mother. But my daddy put them in charge of me until he gets back from finding my mama. She's lost.”
Artemus shrugged his tall shoulders down and pulled off his sodden cloak to dry by the fire.
“I wish I could remember my mama. All I remember is the cold. So very cold.” He shivered and stared into the fire.
“I sort of remember mine, but then all I can see is the streets and bein' real hungry and scared.”
Rosa looked at them both, “You lived on a street in the city?”
Lucky shrugged, “It is all I remember. My mama was a whore, so they say, and they found me a year back, turned out to the gutter, eatin' out of the garbage and so forth. A tall lady in silver armor come along and scooped me right up and plopped me in a big wagon she towed around the city.”
Artemus nodded, “Aye, we all remember the silver lady. She come around Nashkel and found me there. Things were'nt lookin' to good for me. I was livin' in the wilds and the townfolk, well, they threw me scraps, but no one wanted me around inside. But the silver lady, she came, took me by the hand, and told me she would give me a home, food, and train me to be a good fighter. So I went.”
The little girl turned her red-capped head toward the washed out bay and felt the her numb toes prickle through her boots. “This silver lady took you here to Corwell?”
“Aye, she did. She gathered up ten of us, the one she said were the strongest to travel, and shipped us here. So we just got here four weeks ago and not a lick of time to ourselves. All they talk about is Tempus and our duty and how we gonna fight for him. It's nice they care so much, but they show it in cuffs and blows.”
“Imagine if they hugged us. I'd pay a penny for a hug. That is all i'm sayin,” Lucky laughed weakly.

The sound of tramping feet, a heavy sigh, and a thud of a huge serving platter, made the two jump. Then bending down over them with a smaller tray, was a dark skinned woman, her hair pinned up into a large bun with two ornately carved ivory sticks, and a smile on her full reddened lips.
“Here ya go Rosa. I got you some midwinter pies and some hot cider in that kettle. You pour yourself somethin' hot and warm up.”

The boys looked up dazed, in the dark lady's hands was a large plate of pies. Some were circle shaped and weeping tears of beef sauce and on the other side were half-moon pies dripping with applesauce and spices. She plopped a kettle down by the fire and they could smell the arcing scent of tart cider and again spices. Someone's tummy growled and the dark lady stood up and laughed roughly in a thick bark. “So where you boys from? Don' think I ever saw ye around here before?”

Rosa smiled as they suddenly both had mouths full of pie, “They live next door now at the house of Tempus. They saved me from snowballs and from a hole!”
Trapper paused for a moment, looked at each of them, and nodded, her face a bit distant, “So you two. Do ya know the priestess Jendari?”
Artemus nodded and cleared his throat, “That is the name of the silver lady. Yes, she sent us here.”
Trapper smiled softly, “I can see from you two, she is doin' well then and doin' the good work as she promised.” She tucked a stray hair back behind her ear, her arm rippling under the thick red wool she wore. “Now you boys eat your pies and get warmed up. Midwinter is a time for feastin' and family, after all.”

The boys looked down at their pies. Lucky smiled sadly, “Thank you. This is real good pie.”
Trapper looked down at the skinny half-elf boy looking up at her, the taller boy staring up with large, strange eyes, and little Rosa, sweet as a snowdrop. Then she bent over and gave each of them a hug. “Happy Midwinter, each of ya. You just remember to come over any time you need to warm up your bellies and toes. Think of us as family.”

Both the boys stopped chewing for a moment; Lucky closed his eyes and sighed softly, as Artemus stiffened a bit in his hug, and Rosa gave Trapper a quick kiss on the cheek.
Rosa leaned over to the boys, each with their cheeks red from the fire, “When my brother comes back from the Druids today, we can play hide and seek. He's real good at hiding.”
Artemus smiled, his lips splitting briefly to bare a row of pointed teeth. Rosa raised a brow and he stuffed a pie in his mouth to cover it up quickly.
The boys tucked into the pies and made quick work of it all, licking every finger, plate, and savoring each bit to the last dregs of the cider kettle.
Rosa brought her collection of wood animals, special rocks, and her little bow and arrows for them to play with. Trapper slid over to the stage, a mug of spiked cider in her hand, bent, gave Dedrick a kiss on his stubbly cheek.
"Happy Midwinter, Dedrick."

He paused for a moment with blush, took up the mug, then took up a softer, sweeter song on his guitar that set the sailors to silence a bit and listen.

“When the clouds have all come to a congress of sorts,
When the ice has drawn firmly in all of our ports,
When the dreams of the Ffolk are tightly tucked in,
When the fire that is life, flickers down soft and dim,
Midwinter comes.

When the beds are piled with furs and sheepskins,
When the cold wind it calls in all family and friends,
When the children dance in the snow light and play,
When ya can't tell the light of the moon from the day,
Midwinter comes!

Dig down deep, all my friends, open larder and store,
Roast a fowl, fill your bowls, and make room to host more,
Pour out cider and wine; the choicest and most fine,
Hug your children and mine, for its time to remind,
we Fflok survi-ive...when Midwinter comes.”


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Re: The Life and Times of Trapper Wind [NC-17]

Post by CloudDancing »

Black Marigolds

Even now
My thought is all of this gold-tinted king's daughter
With garlands tissue and golden buds,
Smoke tangles of her hair, and sleeping or waking
Feet trembling in love, full of pale languor;
My thought is clinging as to a lost learning
Slipped down out of the minds of men,
Labouring to bring her back into my soul.

Even now
If I see in my soul the citron-breasted fair one
Still gold-tinted, her face like our night stars,
Drawing unto her; her body beaten about with flame,
Wounded by the flaring spear of love,
My first of all by reason of her fresh years,
Then is my heart buried alive in snow.

Even now
If my girl with lotus eyes came to me again
Weary with the dear weight of young love,
Again I would give her to these starved twins of arms
And from her mouth drink down the heavy wine,
As a reeling pirate bee in fluttered ease
Steals up the honey from the nenuphar.

Even now
I bring her back, ah, wearied out with love
So that her slim feet could not bear her up;
Curved falls of her hair down on her white cheeks;
In the confusion of her coloured vests
Speaking that guarded giving up, and her scented arms
Lay like cool bindweed over against my neck.

Even now
I bring her back to me in her quick shame,
Hiding her bright face at the point of day:
Making her grave eyes move in watered stars,
For love's great sleeplessness wandering all night,
Seeming to sail gently, as that pink bird,
Down the water of love in a harvest of lotus.

Even now
If I saw her lying all wide eyes
And with collyrium the indent of her cheek
Lengthened to the bright ear and her pale side
So suffering the fever of my distance,
Then would my love for her be ropes of flowers, and night
A black-haired lover on the breasts of day.

Even now
I see the heavy startled hair of this reed-flute player
Who curved her poppy lips to love dances,
Having a youth's face madding like the moon
Lying at her full; limbs ever moving a little in love,
Too slight, too delicate, tired with the small burden
Of bearing love ever on white feet.

Even now
She is present to me on her beds,
Balmed with the exhalation of a flattering musk,
Rich with the curdy essence of santal;
Girl with eyes dazing as the seeded wine,
Showing as a pair of gentle nut-hatches
Kissing each other with their bills, each hidden
By turns within a little grasping mouth.

Even now
She swims back in the crowning hour of love
All red with wine her lips have given to drink,
Soft round the mouth with camphor and faint blue
Tinted upon the lips, her slight body,
Her great live eyes, the colourings of herself
A clear perfection; sighs of musk outstealing
And powdered wood spice heavy of Kashmir.

Even now
I see her; far face blond like gold
Rich with small lights, and tinted shadows surprised
Over and over all of her; with glittering eyes
All bright for love but very love weary,
As it were the conjuring disk of the moon when Rahu ceases
With his dark stumbling block to hide her rays.

Even now
She is art-magically present to my soul,
And that one word of strange heart's ease, goodbye.
That in the night, in loth moving to go,
And bending over to a golden mouth,
I said softly to the turned away
Tenderly tired hair of this king's daughter.

Even now
My eyes that hurry to see no more are painting, painting
Faces of my lost girl. O golden rings
That tap against cheeks of small magnolia leaves,
O whitest so soft parchment where
My poor divorcèd lips have written excellent
Stanzas of kisses, and will write no more.

Even now
Death sends me the flickering of powdery lids
Over wild eyes and the pity of her slim body
All broken up with the weariness of joy;
The little red flowers of her breasts to be my comfort
Moving above scarves, and for my sorrow
Wet crimson lips that once I marked as mine.

Even now
By a cool noise of waters in the spring
The Asoka with young flowers that feign her fingers
And bud in red; and in the green vest pearls kissing
As it were rose leaves in the gardens of God; the shining at night
Of white cheeks in the dark; smiles from light thoughts within,
And her walking as of a swan: these trouble me.

Even now
The pleasèd intimacy of rough love
Upon the patient glory of her form
Racks me with memory; and her bright dress
As it were yellow flame, which the white hand
Shamefastly gathers in her rising haste,
The slender grace of her departing feet.

Even now
When all my heavy heart is broken up
I seem to see my prison walls breaking
And then a light, and in that light a girl
Her fingers busied about her hair, her cool white arms
Faint rosy at the elbows, raised in the sunlight,
And temperate eyes that wander far away.

Even now
I see her, as I used, in her white palace
Under black torches throwing cool red light,
Woven with many flowers and tearing the dark.
I see her rising, showing all her face
Defiant timidly, saying clearly:
Now I shall go to sleep, good-night, my ladies.

Even now
Though I am so far separate, a flight of birds
Swinging from side to side over the valley trees,
Passing my prison with their calling and crying,
Bring me to see my girl. For very bird-like
Is her song singing, and the state of a swan
In her light walking, like the shaken wings
Of a black eagle falls her nightly hair.

Even now
I know my princess was happy. I see her stand
Touching her breasts with all her flower-soft fingers,
Looking askance at me with smiling eyes.
There is a god that arms him with a flower
And she was stricken deep. Here, oh die here.
Kiss me and I shall be purer than quick rivers.

Even now
They chatter her weakness through the two bazaars
Who was so strong to love me. And small men
That buy and sell for silver being slaves
Crinkle the fat about their eyes; and yet
No Prince of the Cities of the Sea has taken her,
Leading to his grim bed. Little lonely one,
You clung to me as a garment clings; my girl.

Even now
Only one dawn shall rise for me. The stars
Revolve to-morrow's night and I not heed.
One brief cold watch beside an empty heart
And that is all. This night she rests not well;
Oh, sleep; for there is heaviness for all the world
Except for the death-lighted heart of me.

Even now
My sole concern the slipping of her vests,
Her little breasts the life beyond this life.
One night of disarray in her green hems,
Her golden cloths, outweighs the order of earth,
Making of none effect the tides of the sea.
I have seen her enter the temple meekly and there seem
The flag of flowers that veils the very god.

Even now
I mind the coming and talking of wise men from towers
Where they had thought away their youth. And I, listening,
Found not the salt of the whispers of my girl,
Murmur of confused colours, as we lay near sleep;
Little wise words and little witty words,
Wanton as water, honied with eagerness.

Even now
I call to mind her weariness in the morning
Close lying in my arms, and tiredly smiling
At my disjointed prayer for her small sake.
Now in my morning the weariness of death
Sends me to sleep. Had I made coffins
I might have lived singing to three score.

Even now
The woodcutter and the fisherman turn home,
With on his axe the moon and in his dripping net
Caught yellow moonlight. The purple flame of fires
Calls them to love and sleep. From the hot town
The maker of scant songs for bread wanders
To lie under the clematis with his girl.
The moon shines on her breasts, and I must die.

Even now
I have a need to make up prayers, to speak
My last consideration of the world
To the great thirteen gods, to make my balance
Ere the soul journeys on. I kneel and say:
Father of Light. Leave we it burning still
That I may look at you. Mother of the Stars,
Give me your feet to kiss; I love you, dear.

Even now
I seem to see the face of my lost girl
With frightened eyes, like a wood wanderer,
In travail with sorrowful waters, unwept tears
Labouring to be born and fall; when white face turned
And little ears caught at the far murmur,
The pleased snarling of the tumult of dogs
When I was hurried away down the white road.

Even now
When slow rose-yellow moons looked out at night
To guard the sheaves of harvest and mark down
The peach's fall, how calm she was and love worthy.
Glass-coloured starlight falling as thin as dew
Was wont to find us at the spirit's starving time
Slow straying in the orchard paths with love.

Even now
Love is a god and Rati the dark his bride;
But once I found their child and she was fairer,
That could so shine. And we were each to each
Wonderful and a presence not yet felt
In any dream. I knew the sunset earth
But as a red gold ring to bear my emerald
Within the little summer of my youth.

Even now
I marvel at the bravery of love.
She, whose two feet might be held in one hand
And all her body on a shield of the guards,
Lashed like a gold panther taken in a pit
Tearfully valiant, when I too was taken;
Bearding her black beard father in his wrath,
Striking the soldiers with white impotent hands.

Even now
I mind that I loved cypress and roses, dear,
The great blue mountains and the small grey hills,
The sounding of the sea. Upon a day
I saw strange eyes and hands like butterflies;
For me at morning larks flew from the thyme
And children came to bathe in little streams.

Even now
Sleep left me all these nights for your white bed
And I am sure you sistered lay with sleep
After much weeping. Piteous little love,
Death is in the garden, time runs down,
The year that simple and unexalted ran till now
Ferments in winy autumn, and I must die.

Even now
I mind our going, full of bewilderment
As who should walk from sleep into great light,
Along the running of the winter river,
A dying sun on the cool hurrying tide
No more by green rushes delayed in dalliance,
With a clear purpose in his flower flecked length
Informed, to reach Nirvana and the sea.

Even now
I love long black eyes that caress like silk,
Ever and ever sad and laughing eyes,
Whose lids make such sweet shadow when they close
It seems another beautiful look of hers.
I love a fresh mouth, ah, a scented mouth,
And curving hair, subtle as a smoke,
And light fingers, and laughter of green gems.

Even now
I mind asking: Where love and how love Rati's priestesses?
You can tell me of their washings at moon down
And if that warm basin have silver borders.
Is it so that when they comb their hair
Their fingers, being purple stained, show
Like coral branches in the black sea of their hair?

Even now
I remember that you made answer very softly,
We being one soul, your hand on my hair,
The burning memory rounding your near lips:
I have seen the priestesses of Rati make love at moon fall
And then in a carpeted hall with a bright gold lamp
Lie down carelessly anywhere to sleep.

Even now
I have no surety that she is not Mahadevi
Rose red of Siva, or Kapagata
The wilful ripe Companion of the King,
Or Krishna's own Lakshmi, the violet haired.
I am not certain but that dark Brahma
In his high secret purposes
Has sent my soft girl down to make the three worlds mad
With capering about her scented feet.

Even now
Call not the master painters from all the world,
Their thin black beards, their rose and green and grey,
Their ashes of lapis lazuli ultramarine,
Their earth of shadows the umber. Laughing at art
Sunlight upon the body of my bride,
For painting not nor any eyes for ever.
Oh warm tears on the body of my bride.

Even now
I mind when the red crowds were passed and it was raining
How glad those two that shared the rain with me;
For they talked happily with rich young voices
And at the storm's increase, closer and with content,
Each to the body of the other held
As there were no more severance for ever.

Even now
The stainless fair appearance of the moon
Rolls her gold beauty over an autumn sky
And the stiff anchorite forgets to pray;
How much the sooner I, if her wild mouth
Tasting of the taste of manna came to mine
And kept my soul at balance above a kiss.

Even now
Her mouth carelessly scented as with lotus dust
Is water of love to the great heat of love,
A tirtha very holy, a lover's lake
Utterly sacred. Might I go down to it
But one time more, then should I find a way
To hold my lake for ever and ever more
Sobbing out my life beside the waters.

Even now
I mind that the time of the falling of blossoms started my dream
Into a wild life, into my girl;
Then was the essence of her beauty spilled
Down on my days so that it fades not,
Fails not, subtle and fresh, in perfuming
That day, and the days, and this the latest day.

Even now
She with young limbs as smooth as flower pollen,
Whose swaying body is laved in the cool
Waters of languor, this dear bright-coloured bird,
Walks not, changes not, advances not
Her weary station by the black lake
Of Gone Forever, in whose fountain vase
Balance the water-lilies of my thought.

Even now
Spread we our nets beyond the farthest rims
So surely that they take the feet of dawn
Before you wake and after you are sleeping
Catch up the visible and invisible stars
And web the ports the strongest dreamer dreamed,
Yet is it all one, Vidya, yet is it nothing.

Even now
The night is full of silver straws of rain,
And I will send my soul to see your body
This last poor time. I stand beside your bed;
Your shadowed head lies leaving a bright space
Upon the pillow empty, your sorrowful arm
Holds from your side and clasps not anything.
There is no covering upon you.

Even now
I think your feet seek mine to comfort them.
There is some dream about you even now
Which I'll not hear at waking. Weep not at dawn,
Though day brings wearily your daily loss
And all the light is hateful. Now is it time
To bring my soul away.

Even now
I mind that I went round with men and women,
And underneath their brows, deep in their eyes,
I saw their souls, which go slipping aside
In swarms before the pleasure of my mind;
The world was like a flight of birds, shadow or flame
Which I saw pass above the engraven hills.
Yet was there never one like to my girl.

Even now
Death I take up as consolation.
Nay, were I free as the condor with his wings
Or old kings throned on violet ivory,
Night would not come without beds of green floss
And never a bed without my bright darling.
It is most fit that you strike now, black guards,
And let this fountain out before the dawn.

Even now
I know that I have savoured the hot taste of life
Lifting green cups and gold at the great feast.
Just for a small and a forgotten time
I have had full in my eyes from off my girl
The whitest pouring of eternal light.
The heavy knife. As to a gala day.

From the Sanskrit of Chauras
(Chaura-panchasika, 1st Century)
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CloudDancing
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Re: The Life and Times of Trapper Wind [NC-17]

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Re: The Life and Times of Trapper Wind [NC-17]

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“For Sale”

Trapper hung the sign up on the door, set the iron key in the lock, and turned it shut for the last time.

Several chests and crates were loaded onto a cart and being hauled toward a ship not far off from the shuttered Inn. She blinked her gray eyes a few times, staring at the place where so many interesting things had happened, but she did not seem particularly sad.

The sign above the door still read “Trapper’s Hold.”

“I suppose someone else will come along an’ name it somethin’ more to their liking. I fear though if’n my old friends come a’callin, they wlll not know where we went.”

A raven-haired boy, brown and lean, with shifting wolf-like eyes, took her hand as did a girl, about seven years with soft chestnut hair and clear eyes, took her other hand. Both were bundled up in wool and padded down against the cool spring weather and the damp fog that drifted through Corwell that time of year.

The thought had occurred to her deep into that winter that it had been four years and Lettinus had never come back to them. She had waited and waited and Jonathan nor Madeline had ever come back for Rosa. She had waited and waited. Visits from old friends had stemmed the boredom, but the endless tide of swarthy sailors and merchants began to wear on her.

Thoughts of the sacred Moonwood and its endless ancient trees sprung to mind more often than not. When she left the Inn to go on a bit of a hunt or a walk, the Llyrath winds seemed to want to blow her dreams out away from her, blow them out into the East, and drag her thoughts back to the lands where she had rose up from.

“What will it be like when we get there?” Windsun asked.

“You’ll like Silverymoon for sure. It is just the sort of place for Rosa to get educated. And you’ll get an education, too. It’ll be better than any I evah’ had. More important, you and me, we will get you to know the druids in the city and the Elf druids in the forest. It’ll be different than here, but we will have family and thas’ all that matters to me.”

Rosa’s face was pale and she squeezed her foster mother’s hand a little tighter. Trapper picked Rosa up and hugged her tightly.

“Don’ start cryin’. We are goin’ on an adventure, jus’ like your Mama and Papa used to do. We are going to see amazin’ thins’ and do amazin’ thins’. Me’n Bud will be with you the whole time. Windsun is bringin’ Puff, too.”

The wolf-dog paced near the boat as Trapper led the children on board. Trapper whistled and he hopped aboard and sniffed about at their three chests. Windsun had his little, mewling bobcat kitten, Puff, tucked into the front of his jacket.

“You’ll see all the peoples of the world in Silverymoon. All workin’ and livin’ together harmoniously. I got a few friends there that will help us out a bit. I know the good places to stay and I know the land real well. We’ll be like a real woods-type family. Jus’ like yer Papa, Aniall, Windsun. We are goin’ to my home and soon it will be your home, too.”

As the ship pulled up its anchor, the family held hands for a moment. They watched as Corwell Town drifted into the fog and until only the faint lights could be seen. Then there was nothing but gray until the ship broke through the coastal fog then slid into the blue sea and sky.

"There is the Knight Commander Sir Alyra. And my friend Berendil, the best Elven ranger you'll ever meet....* she trailed off, remembering those that had be lost to time and memory. The sea rose up for a moment and captain shuffled the children below the docks.

Trapper Wind stood alone for a moment at the prow. She whispered her prayer to the Windwalker and stared out into the icy blue swells.

There would be many stops on their journey east. And there would be many more adventures and happenstances to make a reader truly grip the very pages of this book. Those are merely dreams, little excerpts of stories yet to be pieced together, but someday will become a whole.
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Re: The Life and Times of Trapper Wind [NC-17]

Post by Ithildur »

((CD, just a gentle reminder... retired PCs (and their property/shop etc) who have become NPC's are no longer under the control of player, unless the player is currently a DM on the server that the NPC resides in. I would recommend you request HDM Arianna about taking Trapper out of MS/putting up shop for sale, etc; I'm sure her response will not be unreasonable. ))
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