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

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

Post by CloudDancing »

I wanted to post a series of short one shots as an omage to the dms and players involved. This first one happened at level 2, showing that a low level is no reason to pull any punches

The Life and Times of Trapper Wind
ADULT CONTENT IMPLIED and/or THINLY VEILED
by Cloud

Outside the door the mistress of the upper floor of the Brandished Blade stood with her arms crossed behind the bar. Then a low, dull, moan echoed through the thick oaken door of one of the card rooms. The blonde older woman motioned to her half-elven busboy to come over to her. “Their not doin' what I think there doin'?” Another loud thud and a woman's rough voice yelled a stream of profanities that made even the toughest group of longshoremen stop and stare for a moment.

There was another garbled groan from room and then what could be described as the sound of wood splintering. She frowned, “Pip? Ye go over there and knock on the door. Tell 'im ta get a room.”

“But e's a giant orc!,” he whimpered. She shoved the small boy over with his broom in his hand. He knocked lightly on the door. “Sir?” he said quavering. It was followed by a loud, deep, “Whut!” Then a loud woman's voice yelled, “Sod off ye. Who'ever comes in here will get 'es arms ripped off and stuffed up his...” Her words became garbled and dissolved into “Oh Gods.” The small boy tripped backwards and ran down stairs before his mistress could stop him.

With that the floor started to shake. Mugs trembled on tables. People started making their way downstairs with looks of bemusement. The mistress of the house leaned back on the wall and covered her eyes and frowned. It wasn't the first time those rooms had been ill-used and after this probably not the last. She waved her hand and leaned on the bar with her hands over her ears. The longshoremen near-by grinned and nodded their tales turning to elaborate stories of conquest and whoring. Thud-thud-thud, the regular sound of wood hitting against a wall, and terrible horrible groans and more profanities wafted through the upstairs.

It culminated in what can only be described (by those who were there in their rustic maritime vernacular) as nearly the same sound a newly built ship makes as it slides down greased wood against tarred wood into the ocean. That is if wood could swear a blue streak to make a sailor blush. The floor shook one, two, three last times, followed by a loud crash, and then there was silence.
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Re: The Life and Times of Trapper Wind [NC-17]

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The Boot To The Head

A light voice yelled drunkenly from the upper stairwell of the Rivermoot Inn.
“Dammit Woman!”
“Get out! Leaf' me be, damnit!”

A long black leather boot flew on a direct path toward where the Elf staggered half-drunk into the doorway. He dodged nimbly as other pieces of gear flew at him in a rapid succession. It made little sense, all starting with a few drinks and simple conversation with the leather-clad female after a long and arduous day in the hills hunting and scouting between the 'Moot and Fourthpeak.

The conversation had turned to drinking and the drinking to innuendo and he noticed the more he pressed his guarded infatuation with her, the more agitated the lean woman had become until she sat there staring at him, her neck muscles coiled, as if his death were the next action on her mind.

Trapper loosened her armor at that point and fanned herself in the most distracting way, then turned to him and slurred, “You don' like that i'm doing this so all can see eh? Bringing about terrible temptations? I can see it in yer eyes.” She yanked her armor open a little wider and ran her hand down the side of her firm breast suggestively. “Watchin' is all your gonna get, so ya better get used to it!” The compact woman had then thrown the bottle at the fire and stumbled unusually quickly up the stairs to her room for the amount of drink she had imbibed.

The ranger, Aniall, blinked back the brandy that rolled in his stomach and then questioned exactly what he was doing chasing after some human woman. He steadied himself to dodge the second black boot flying at his head. He struggled to communicate with the angry semi-naked woman tossing bits of armor and ephemera about wildly. He moved closer into the room and was crouching down to speak with her when she sprung at him unexpectedly.

The sheer force of her muscled body hit him hard and low but somehow, possibly due to the fact she was drunk as a skunk, he grabbed her, restrained her. He was then was promptly slapped hard across the face as she grunted and struggled to get free. “Let me go!” she growled and kicked him in the shins hard. His eyes flew open wide in pain and he tightened his grip until she suddenly went limp in his arms.

Very slowly she edged her tanned cheek next to his dark one and whispered sadly, “Why are ye doin' this, jus' leave me be.” He stammered softly, “Why is all you do is want to rut? I'd rather just be a friends than have hard feelings cause you left me for the next passing fancy.” “I'd be lying ta ya if I said I would'n.” Then before he released her, he felt her full lips kiss his neck softly, “So I leave you with that as a thot' and leave you nothin' else but yer standards. I won'...I won' speak of again unless ya do.” He looked down at her staring up at him with her clear gray eyes and pushed her away from him with a painful sigh.
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Re: The Life and Times of Trapper Wind [NC-17]

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Impasse

The falling spring rain steamed up from her pores as it fell to bejewel her dark skin and shimmered silver pearls in her uncovered hair. Trapper struggled to breathe as the fire burned through her veins from her core and penetrated into her thoughts. The stone wall scraped hard against her back where she stood and was restrained. As her eyes cracked open she could see how the wind blew the ash trees too and fro. Above drifted deep gray storm clouds overhead nearly the same hue as her clear staring eyes.

There, as the wind lashed her loosened hair about, she was held to the quick, speared to the city wall by an arrow that did not have the mercy to let her find death, only the the fiery oblivion of a smaller death. The two lean muscled arms that encased her, that held her up to him, pulled her down to the ground, and under the shelter of the ruined wall near the park. His careful hands stroked through her thick inky hair to yank her close to force her lips roughly apart to receive his bruising kiss. He pushed her back and crushed her to his muscled chest, “You belong to me, and I to you, that is the way it is.”
Last edited by CloudDancing on Sat Feb 06, 2010 11:08 pm, edited 2 times in total.
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Re: The Life and Times of Trapper Wind [NC-17]

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Fire at the Watchpoint

The scarred Hin stood resolutely by the campfire and spoke in a cold methodical voice for someone so small and light, “The old must make way for the new. Talona is one which aids this. It is the drive to make sick what is not meant to be so that is dangerous. From her watch point, Trapper frowned, “I don' care..I jus' don' want it in MY back yard, infectin' my people.”

Atalia of Woodwalker laughed dryly for the first time in a very long while, “That is unfortunate.” Trap looked down to her and patted her dog gently where he slept, “I see the big wide span of it all, don' get me wrong.”
“Wishing to escape death and illness is simply arrogance. It has been longer than you and shall remain when you are returned to dust.”

The sparse tanned ranger nodded and spoke in an a odd cold voice in comparison to her natural rustic ebullience, “I kno' what's comin. I been throttlin' this life for all it worth since I lef' home. I near wish death now for all tha' has happened. I can't bear ta' live much more anyhow in the knowin' of it.” The Hin poked at the cloth pieces she was burning in the fire, “That is not natural either.”

Trapper stared again across the Rauvin, pale and resolute. The bags of sleeplessness were shadowed under her eyes and up close, the smell of the deep dark musk of her and a male presence permeated her being. Atalia continued, “One strives for life knowing that it will eventually end. Not simply sit and wait for death to come.”

Trapper nodded at her and rambled, “I won't wait by the side for it ta come, i'll make sure it counts for somethin' so he don't forget.” Atalia of Woodwalker stared unnervingly at the woman in clear silent appraisal, if not judgment. Trap stiffened and stared back with cold gray eyes and spoke with a hint of knowing, “Hells. If'n I was a coward, i'd ask ye to slit my throat right now. But what good would tha' do either of us?
“You are different than I assumed.”

The ranger then pulled out a flask from her boot and took a deep swig, “He burns me Hin. I can't barely sleep for it. I near can't think for it, but it is all I desire. It's all that there is in me since tha' Vinia creature thralled me. I can't get away from it. I never find any rest, can't eat, can't even think, just this heat upon me burning away like a wild fire.”

Impassive, the hin spoke, “I think I am not a person you should speak to of these issues. You were one who cared not of judgment. One who fought. It is true no longer.” Trap took another drink and hissed, “An' I suspect it'll end soon enough. And I still coul' care less what they think,” she thumbed behind her at the night guard. “Feck, i'll scream howling in ta the night if I want to and they can sleep knowin' they never touched somethin' tha' wild by it. But I suspect tho' it won't be long. Wind be blowin'” she grinned fiercely at the Hin with a touch of hardness in her eyes and watched as piece by piece Atalia burned away her memories.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e83qHv5pLHI
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Re: The Life and Times of Trapper Wind [NC-17]

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Requiem

Outside of splendid white walls of Silverymoon's fortification, the ranger, Trapper Wind climbed out of the forest looking pale, thin, dirty, and worn to the quick of life itself. There by the gate, gazing up at the stars, sat a clear beacon of beautiful white face, soft red dress, and caused a slight aching familiarity that caused Trapper to gulp down another sob momentarily.

She squinted with bleary red eyes at the woman, “Elven? Zalanthe?” She then staggered a bit and pulled out her great sword from her back to lean on. Zalanthe Moonglow, an Elf of a pale and exquisite countenance, looked to her first smiling softly, then frowned once she got a good look at the state she was in. “What has happened? The normally resilient rangers head bobbed loosely like a puppet, “Mind if I set awhile?”
“Of course, of course.”

As she lowered herself down on her sword, the Elf could now see her ruined armor up close, full of arrow holes and her left side pocked with bloodied wounds clotted with green ichor. Again she pressed in her soft voice, “Please, what has happened?”

“Them assassins. The ones afta' Alyra. They come for me. Thinkin' I lead them to her. They' had'nt of got the drop on me..ifn..I wasn',” she stopped and her teeth tightened. And as if some had taken the puppet strings up tightly, Trapper suddenly raised up, her spine in a deep arch, and with a deep breath in her chest groaned out a harsh sob.

“He' dead,” she struggled to stop herself from crying and shoved at her reddened crusted eyes. Zalanthe tilted her head, blinking, “Aniall?” She gulped and sobbed, while horribly coughing, “Leif an' Alyra, bless them, they found him. He went missin' for days an' I looked an' looked. Orcs, we thot but then those assassins say they cut the Elf down. He died maybe tryin' to protect her.” The leathery woman grunted and shoved her dirty hands at her muddied face. Zalanthe sighed deeply, shaking her head, leaning closer, gently putting an arm around her, “I am so sorry Trapper.”

Trapper leaned close and whispered softly in her rough voice, “He was suppostah' live on past me. I thot' I would let myself die in a few years ta spare him, well ye know. He did'nt need no woman like me for he was of fine blood and a strong heart that could outlast mine. And now for all his promises he dead.”

Zalanthe nodded her head, just gently holding her, “He loved you more than anything Trapper
As the Elf held she could tell Trapper was barely holding herself up. Something foul was sapping at her strength and her already lean cheeks grew tight and hot against her bones. The lanky woman breathed a harsh sigh, “I near threw myself into the arms of those killahs. For a moment, I thot, this is a fittin' way ta die.”
“Do not say things like that Trapper, he would not want you to throw your life away so needlessly.”
Trap nodded with a small bob of her chin, “Then somethin' pushed me to go, to see to the Lady.”

She suddenly turned her muddied dark face to the Elf with a blush, “Sorra there..I been holdin' in all this time, since five days I been searchin' till now. Din' mean ta burden ya with my troubles.” Zalanthe lightly pulled back her hood, frowning further, eying Trapper's cheeks, “You are hurting more than from the loss of your love, do not worry about burdening me, I am well used to burdens. I would share with you my troubles, so that my burden becomes lighter and lets me take on yours. But you are too beautiful and too fragile right now for that, i would not feel right burdening you further.”

Trapper squinted at her with disbelief, “I look like shit on a bad piece of road. But thank ye for the complement,” and grinned tiredly. "Why'd you come here anyhow..I bet thin's are real nice in the Evermeet?”
“Shall i lie to you? That answer is tied to my burden, and I will not add to that tonight.”
“Long as ya don' worship Lloth or some shitty evil God; tired of having to kill people I meet and think are fine company.”
Zalanthe waved her hand dismissively, “Oh no, nothing like that. I would probably have finished you off by now if that were the case. Perhaps had a little fun first. But you may rest easy, i abhor evil as much as you.”

Trapper Wind grinned a little more like her normal self, “Oh its like tha' then? Ya, I like to toy wit me prey on occasion. Has'nt come up since, he came ta me. He took me in a firm hand, like no other dared ta do. I woul'n say forced me, but he wore me down, stayed on me like a propa' hunter would, and used all his smarts to trick him to lettin' him up close. Oh how we howled at tha' moon to love so much.”

Zalanthe looked down to her dark hair tangled with leaves and twigs, then spoke softly again, “A few nights ago, he sat here with me and watched the stars. He described his love for you in a way I could barely believe.” The filthy woman blinked hard and she reddened, “He came out here with you? While I was out workin' the huntin' camp?”

The pale Elf traced her hand lightly over Trap's cheek, frowning slightly at the pale look and heat of her skin, “I asked him to. I was troubled and he tried to ease my mind.” Trapper spoke softly, “I don' mind. I tol' him it was,” she paused for a moment, “fine with me.” Zalanthe smiled softly and nods, “He mentioned something along those lines. He spoke to me of his life, the hard path he had chosen, and how it was all worth it because now he had you.”

Trapper gulped and stifled a sob with her hand. Zalanthe sighed softly and stroked her hair lightly, “He loved you with every part of his heart and soul. You should remember this. He cared little that he would lose you many years before old age came to him, because the time with you was worth the pain your loss would have brought him. He was willing to bear that for the rest of his life, and that is not something our kind take on lightly, as we live a long time. Love will do that to people, or so i am told.”

“I thot' it nice tho' that I would live in his memory for long as Elven live. Now it's just lef' to me to live.” She muttered softly, “I guess it always was tha' way before. I nevah tol' him I loved him ya know. He did many times ovah.”

“Will you promise me something Trapper? And this is something I will hold you to, should you make it. Do not let your loss turn your life to bitterness. Do not let it hang like a dark cloud that turns everything of beauty to gray.”
Trapper raised her brows, staring blearily up at Zalanthe, steel-eyed and still, “It be hard not to want to kill jus' about everythin' in my way. I wanna fight.”
“I do not ask you to refrain from seeking vengeance. I know that is something most could not promise this close to such a loss. I only ask that you do not let this loss pull you down into a despair you cannot escape from.”

Trapper stared out from her tightened mask and she grinned rakishly, “Oh me, you can see i'm in fine a shape ta fight. I got my help for the doldrums; drinkin'. An' I tell ye there ain't no more men for me. I can't bear the thot of it. No one never touched me like he did and I can't suspect any man evah will. It'd break me to forget the shape of him, how hard he drove me those nights like wild animals in the dusky rain and the like, takin' our libations as the times came. It was grand I tell you.” Trapper trailed off with a heavy cough and her eyes lowered. Zalanthe took her close into her arms and kept the vigil while Trapper fell into an exhausted stupor.

Though the night was long, Zalanthe spoke of many tales to entertain her and then as the sun rose, Trapper did rise up to make her way into the city. She bended down to the Elf, leaning on her sword, then touched her white cheek lightly, “Thank ye Zalanthe. I can't forget what ye do here. I must get to the priest or somethin'. I'll need some days to recover this and the woods ain't safe no more.” Zalanthe smiled warmly, her breath warm as their foreheads touched, dark and light, in farewell, “Get yourself well Trapper. I do not plan to go anywhere for some time. There are many more nights for talk.”

Trapped smiled tightly in response to her gentle grin, “Do me a favor, wait and by the Gods, i'll walk ye and whomever ya make friends with, to wherever you want to go in this land. Anyone. So the wind chaser can guide yer path. Zalanthe then paused and whispered something to Trapper, and Trapper nodded with a wink and a grin, “I forgot.”
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e83qHv5pLHI
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Re: The Life and Times of Trapper Wind [NC-17]

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http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kuq7RYQ8Wa0

A bedraggled woman dressed in only the sparse under-strappings of her ruined leather armor lay in the darkness in a culvert leading into the Silverymoon sewers, her face in a pool of thin vomit, clutching a worn green cape to her chest. As the cold rain fell down on her prone body, she writhed and mumbled deliriously, and slapped madly at the rats attempting to bite at her exposed skin.

The hallucination was the same every time she fell to the drink which was again as often as she had to drain said drink from her body. Ani was with her again, his long dark hair streaming against her, just holding her completely in his strong arms on the mossy loam of the forest floor. And then in her dream she suddenly struggled to hold on to him. His face, his sparkling green eyes, the scent of the back of his neck, all were fading slowly to ghostly fog as she clutched futility at his fading form.

As the nightmare changed, she saw another Elven, tall, wild, and soft brown as the earth, as he walked away from her, back turned into the arms of certain death. And she twisted violently as he ignored her pleas. She gritted her teeth and cried softly, “Don' go, I can't bear to loose ye, too.” And in her drunken stupor, she screamed hoarsely and shoved herself deeply into the mud and trash in the ditch and clutched the cloak to her face. “Don't leave me. Please don't leave me alone.”

Later, disheveled and hung-over Trapper grabbed the loaner armor from the Dwarf at the armory and sniffed at him grumpily, her hair wet and choppy from a deep dunking in the Rauvin. She slipped it on, not quite as nice as her commissioned work, but she was strong enough to wear chain again as the poison faded from her system with each day. This was due to Sion Longfang's insistance that she endure copious forced dosings of terribly flavored broths provided by the Druids of Mielekki that who had watched over her convalescence.

As she walked along the steep cobbled stone streets, she looked for a place to drink she had not be tossed out of. The gripping despair clutched at her with every step, until she was distracted by a man in black as had approached her in his usual abrupt manner. Corio D'Sarte pulled down his hood, bared his scarred face, and bid farewell to the young woman he had been chatting with across the market, “I'll have that word with you Trapper”

She had met him incoming the city a night previous and in so many words she has asked his assistance fo Berendil to take out the assassins. Honestly, she did'nt care really who killed them and if this one was expendable and deadly as they had said, why not send him on a worthy course of action and have her revenge at last? Yet he arrogantly demanded that Berendil come out to him to discuss matters and Trapper nearly lost her temper at him, then directed that anger a passing man who had been making casual aspersions at the Moon Elven twins who had assisted them in scouting their camp, and then left both brusquely.

She looked up at him with a simple stare, “Here good enough or di' you have somethin' more private in mind?” He did not blink, “Do you care to tell me why you speak against me lass?”
“An' who tol' you tha'?”
“Your friend Zalanthe. Are their others you have warned away from me?”

Her disdain was immediately apparent, “Hmm..what did I say?” She rubbed her chin with a sneer, “Ya see tha' happened to be the night I lost my mate, was seriousle' poisoned by assassins, and had'n slept for five days an ni's,”
“And my name and a warning lept to your lips?”

She stared at him coldy and stood as tall and intimidating as she could, “She told me a story. An' I warned her to watch herself from strange men. Is tha' so off persay? Especially 'bearin' gifts to ones they jus' met. She ain't too long from Evarmeet..green as they say.”
“Upon whom I bestow my gifts is my business, Trapper.”

She shrugged, “Nothin' personal. Whatever yer intentions were, I meant to make sure the girl knew to be safe and protect herself. There be alot of men out there with much to hide and alterior motives”
“To be sure. Men and women both.”
“Mayhap so. But I can only judge one from what I see from 'em," she clenched her fists and relaxed them slowly, but the tension in her lean body was apparent.
“And you judge me befitting warning? From a gift bestowed to soon? I did not take you as one to partake in coy courting?”

She stopped and her mouth tightened, “Look, I know what I see, and when I see ye, it aint in the best situations. The men at the Hold speak of ya well, like a God nearly, and the others, well they honestly fear you and some even distrust you. She cracked her neck and stood poised for movement.
Corio narrowed his eyes, “And you?”
“The blood you drenched in..it obivious,” she spoke her gentle rough voice harshly honest.
“The truth is Trapper, I don't care over much for the judgments of men, or women.”

“What do my opinions matta then? I jus' don' like to see girls harmed. Is tha' so wrong? In the end they all run of and get themselves cut up or beat up in the end anyhow. Ifn' I warn em, least I don' somethin' to help em on their travels?” He stared at her and spoke in an even neutral voice, “Help all you wish Trapper, just see that you don't become a hindrance.” Her face betrayed her anger quicky but she gritted her teeth, “Somehow I don' thin' I could get in your way if'n I wanted to even. You know that ri out don' ya?”

“Do you want to Trapper? Get in my way,” holding her eyes.
She upped the anty and raised her chin defiantly, “Depends on if your headin' toward Alyra will ill intent. Ya seem to want to help her yes?” The scarred male half-smirked, “Ask Alyra what she thinks on the subject. But mostly, ask yourself this when you fell under a dark spell, who was it warned you away? Right in this very spot if I recall?”
She set her chin resolutely and closed her eyes to speak whiskey rough, “I know tha' and your advice di' serve us well when Vinia came again to Alyra a bit ago.”
“Its poor wages you pay me for my trouble Trapper. Before you seek to turn others against me, ask yourself, whose path is best taken, mine or yours?”

Suddenly her temper snapped as despair tore again at her mind, “I tell one Elven to watch her damn back and you get all worried about your reputation? On no, it ain't this little scrap of a ranger YOU need to be worried about talkin' uh-uh. It's the ones tha' DO know ya and do talk.” The dark-skinned woman turned slightly red and her neck muscles began to cord tightly. Corio flashed a thin smile, “There's only one person in all the marches who ever knew me Trapper. And she's gone. But I see I've upset you, which was not my intent. Think on what i said, and the next time my name springs to your lips, think again.”

Trapper mechanically swiveled her head around slowly observe him frustratedly, “It won', because it ain't and never has been my business to worry on one man' or his affairs. I don' with that. Nevah again. But i'd watch yer back. People ain't so nice as they pretend ta be especially when they got fear keepin' their mouths up tight.”

Corio D'Sarte smiled that thin smile again then patted her shoulder gently, “I'm glad we had this talk. We'll talk again soon. I promise.” She twitched oddly at his touch, “I hope afta' these assassins are bled dry and laid in shallow graves. Then.” She slowly and reluctantly grinned but her eyes were hollow with a common coldness. They muttered the traditional farewells there in the rain below the statues of the great champions of Silverymoon. As Corio walked down the path, he heard the subtle crunch of chain mail behind him the sound of her crumpling to the ground to kneel there by the fountain and continued downward on his own path.

Her hand shot into her pack and pulled a bottle of Firebelly Whiskey out which she jammed into her mouth and turned her head back violently for a swallow. Her head flipped down forward and she grunted a harsh sob, “Gods, Ani', Gods Damnit I miss you so.” Shortly thereafter, she fell again to her stupor, her lean form curled limp by the fountain, clutching the bottle in one hand, as commoners passed her by, faces twisted in pity or disgust.
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Re: The Life and Times of Trapper Wind [NC-17]

Post by johnlewismcleod »

Thanks very much for this, Cloud...it's brilliant!

More, please :D
I seek plunder....and succulent greens


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

Post by Lucifer »

Enough to make the Devil himself shed a tear.."sniff" :cry:
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Re: The Life and Times of Trapper Wind [NC-17]

Post by CloudDancing »

nothing that is featured here happened exactly in this time sequence, I had to squeeze many things into an order that seemed more logical, omit meta, and try to be subtle. Otherwise it was an amazing Valentines day

Lonely Hearts

The moon shifted high above the farmlands of the Silver Marches in a clear shining orb, illuminating the lanky hooded ranger and her wolf as they stood watch by the River Rauvin. Sweetness and light herself knelt down by the river's edge, her pale white skin glowing softly and eerily in the moons gentle rays. Trapper Wind, ranger of Shandakul, stared down in a reverent wonder that such a thing, such a delicate and rare thing could ever care to spend time with one so rough and harsh as herself.

The two friends, one petite but extremely lush Moon Elf of pale locks, emerald eyes, and moon-like countenance and the sparse muscled ranger with her gray eyes and odd coffee-colored complexion seemed to be complete opposites, even in their speech. Yet very few could not see their closeness that so many woman friends are privileged to share or how the toughened ranger kept a protective watch over the delicate smaller woman.

She smiled softy and recalled the previous weeks. Things had become complicated and at the same time uncomplicated. Aniall's body was put to rest in the halls of Everdusk and while she wished she could curl up wherever he was laid, and sleep by his bones for comfort, the Elven would not reveal to her the manner of their preparation of the dead.

Trapper reached to caress Ani's trusted knives she wore in her boot sheaths. On her left side sheath was tucked a wicked looking dagger from the eastern origin. It had been thrown at her or to her by Corio as a gift really, lodged quivering in the table in front of her as sentiment to the deaths of her mate's killers at his, Grull's, and Berendil's hands.

She eased back watching the surrounds and sent her Wolf down to the shore with a silent hand motion to Zalanthe's side. Trap smiled softly as the woman wrapped her white hands around the large puppys neck and hugged him to her closely. Then with a scurry, a huge wood rat scrambled through the bushes by her, she aimed and skewered it with one arrow quickly.

She grinned and muttered a prayerful thanks, held up the rat creature, and called down in her rough whiskey voice, “Gods provide, a nice fat wood rat for dinna' tonight!” As she dressed the rat out, she grinned to herself, the red of the blood staining her hands, and dripping on to the thick moss of the forest floor. Thicker, redder carpets her feet had recently touched, in finding her wonder of wonders of all finery in the Dawndancer Hall.

An Elven had come to Silverymoon as of late, another one to join the flock that had been growing as of late. But this one was something Trap had seen before. Deep in her gut, she did'nt like him that much. He mooned softly and skillfully over the innocent Elven twins, singling out one, then promising her nights of pleasure which increasingly worried at Trap for deep personal reasons. She promptly had instructed the innocent girl in the proper uses of some key herbs whilst training her on the subtleties of scouting skill.

Laque, with his thick blonde hair and rakish grin, was everything that she hated in a man, arrogant, selfish, and bold. The only redeeming quality she could find in him being a certain laxness of moral character and a terribly handsome physicality. In other words, he was easily appreciated in a basic animal way, like the way one could appreciate a fine prize stallion out to stud.

Her eyes had blurred yet again that night in the Satyr, as everyone sat whispering over the banishment of Grull, half-orc warrior, and occasional thorn in her side. She, in her depression of yet another friend or at least an ally, getting exiled, drove her to drink, and the drink did drive her to the passing out. And the passing out bared her to delusions, delusions to being tossed like a sack of potatoes in her skimpy leathers by a passing journeyman bard of large frame, Lettinus, and deposited unceremoniously upstairs on the rug by the fire.

All leading up to her vomiting copiously onto Laque's very expensive cloak and getting a slosh of ice cold water dumped on her by one of the Elvish twins. Sputtering, the drunken woman had recovered her senses and was promptly cared for by the girls. Wonders did not cease that night as they gently helped her and called her to them as family. Trapper's eyes misted over. For time in the Elven sense, their friendship would be just a memory someday, a spark on a long twisted path, and for Myoro, Kyoro, and Zalanthe, she would fade like a flower in spring. She smiled and took the complement, but the realization grabbed and tore at her heart.

She had to live, cast off this shroud of sorrow, and even if everything still echoed with the solid ache of loss, she was sure she could jam it out of her mind. She had watched the dance at the Inn, the constant talk of Grull, how to hunt him, how to kill him, and how to prevent him from killing rolled around her like a hideous nauseous cloud. Even Berendil, expert ranger, steadfast and true, sat staring at the wall, a look of befuddlement and pain crossing his face, a witness to another unrequited declaration of love.

With a break to the tension, the handsome Elven with great bravado announced his open invitation to all thus, with a roll of her die, she was lured into the halls of Sune, unimaginable luxury, and the confidences of a man, part of her had great animosity for. Even so the novelty of all, drew many in that night. The thick incense inflamed the senses, the sounds of soft music from the temple acolytes flowed merrily through the halls, where ample oils, potions, and strange wonders lined the shelves.

As she lulled in the temple baths and smoked at a water pipe, she watched the delicate dance between the lovers around her. The elven priest and Kyoro, Leif strolling about scruffy and handsome in a daze, and the very silent Sion and the twin Myoro, merely sampling the pleasures offered then drifting away. Some barely touched, shy as the white stags of the Moonwood, others bold as blooming red roses and their digging thorns.

Trapper rolled her neck in lax amusement half-submerged in rose-oiled and sandalwood scented water, her mind swirling at the prospect of her a dirt-poor girl from a mud-sunk village, in a place like this. For the second time in a few days a long tanned hand reached over to her and drew her to him, as another long white hand close to him took a bottle of sweet wine, tipped it into her yielding lips, and then as the red liquor overflowed, followed it's flow to the valley below with a loving kiss.
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Re: The Life and Times of Trapper Wind [NC-17]

Post by CloudDancing »

This is the story that started it all written a few days after my background and just a few days before the Grull incident at level 2. Everything came from this.

FEREVER

“Hold!,” The tallest cloaked figure raised his fist. Seven figures of various sizes froze in their foot steps at his soft command. One of the cloaked men sidled up along side the their leader and whispered furtively. “Wind, are ya sure you can trust this scrap of a girl? She ain't a professional like one of us.” Wind looked up, the moonlight glinting off his high-cheekbones and the loose blonde hair whiched peeked from his hood. He shrugged, “No. But we don't have a choice. She knows where the Were is hiding.” A high-pitched bird whistle rang out. The tall human male crouched back down and pulled out a great sword from his back. Then they all crouched down low into the thick undergrowth of the Moonwood and the group moved toward the sound.

Ahead a lanky girl hung from an ancient tree, clad only in brown patched leathers, shoeless, with a short bow in hand. While she was easily indistinguishable from the tree, Wind moved up by her and motioned her down. She stood nearly eye to with him and only from her jutting breasts and sturdy hips, one could determine her supple form was female. She swung her legs out and did a flip over onto the ground landing silently. Her gray eyes made an eerie white line around her dilated pupils in the moonlight which glowed against her dark skin. With undisguised admiration she spoke seriously in a rough voice, “Trapper, da Were be in 'dat 'dere cave. Can ya smell it? Dead thangs.”
“The Windwalker be with us. Now get back up on the tree and wait. I don't care what you hear. And if not one of us returns by dawn, head back to the village and send for help.”

Not like those inbred Wood-folk would be much use at that point, he thought. He patted her on the shoulder. Her dark skin flushed noticeably and she flipped back up into the tree with a swift scramble. He moved his hand and the rest of the group pulled out their weapons, some loading bolts and arrow of glinting silver, others pulling special swords from their paper wrappings. Then they moved on toward the gaping maw of the cave and disappeared into it's inky depths.

The dirty unkempt girl rolled a lank strand of thick black hair around one finger as she pulled out a small hard apple and began gnawing at it like a squirrel. She chewed and listened with her back to the mossy tree. Then she stopped. The girl's tanned nostrils flared and she pushed close to the tree. She froze as a heavy rustling came from the bushes along with a deep panting breath. It was the Were. As she watched the huge hulking beast pushed past her. She could see the strange amulet it wore and the splash of red paint across half of its face. It's shaggy form steamed rank in the cool forest air as it made its' way back to the cave.

The girls hair prickled on the back of her neck while at the same time she struggled with the thought of that thing coming up behind her friend. She looked up and chose a high branch that over-hung the cave. Using all her skills, she quietly and swiftly climbed up the tree. Then she flipped up on to the branch, ran across the narrow surface, then did a short flip to land above the cave's entrance.

“Pip-o-will! Pip-o-will!” she whistled loudly. Suddenly, before she could move, the Were sprang up the side of the cave with inhuman dexterity and stood before her. She pressed herself up against a stone and twisted to shield a blow. The Were hissed as drool dripped from its mouth. It swung out a paw and hit her across the face with a measured blow, drawing lines of blood with it's dirty claws.

“A woodss folk child In my lair? How delissss-ciously convenient.” It took its' long claw, slipped it under her flimsy tunic, and sliced it down the middle. The pieces clung to her arms and she was exposed. It growled, “Oh, not a child I see. The others will be pleased.” It pulled back it's muzzle to the shifting moon, let out a bone-chilling howl, then it reached out a clawed paw to take her into its arms. The girl winced in fear and suddenly her nose filled with the smell of ozone and burning fur. She struggled back as the werewolf in front of her exploded with lightning crackles. As she cowered she felt a whoosh of air and head of the Were was cleanly cut off and blood spattered her lanky body.

The body fell to the floor smoking and twitching. Lowering his great-sword, Trapper Wind, cleric of Shandakul, smiled down at the girl and reached for her hand. She crumpled into his arms weeping.
“C'mon there Peanut. Be a brave girl for me.”
“Trapper. Mor' comin. We nee' ta leave!”
He nodded and grabbed the Were's dripping head and tossed it in a sack. Then he wrapped the trembling girl in his cloak, picked up the girl in his arms lightly as a eider down, and carried her back through the woods.


Trapper Wind pulled his cloak from his eyes as he and his entourage entered the ram-shakle door of the Bleedin' Badger. The rustic inn was a an assemblage of bark, salvaged wood, and tarred thatch with floors and such added pell-mell as time and gold allowed.

The crowd inside growled a welcome at his entrance. Since the bounty hunters had been using the village as their base, prosperity had come to them, from free rounds of drinks, to were-fur blankets, to increased sales all around. People seemed a little more cheerful as gold fell from palm to palm, babies went to bed with full tums, and mates brought home meat instead of fusty tubers scrapped from the forested meadows.

Big Annie shifted in her seat behind the bar as she saw the girl curled up in Wind's arms.
“She ain't dead iz she? Ifn' ya killed her ya owe me quite a bit.” She frowned and a bit of concern passed her face. “She's me only daughter 'afta all.” She stood up tall and her huge bosom strained deeply at the laces of her boiled leather bodice as her backside flowed out from behind in a patchy homespun skirt. She leaned over and laid her plump hand on the girls forehead. Wind muttered roughly, “I'll take her up Madam Annie and see that her wounds are healed. A deals a deal after all.”

Big Annie frowned and brushed her henna bright red curls piled expertly on her head then shook her finger at him,“You better not be doin' any of that magic hoobajoo in MY Inn. I don' want nothin' with that business.” Wind hesitated and a smirk crossed his face, he whispered a prayer and ball of light popped into existence above his head. She shrieked and jumped back as did most of the common folk grabbing their mugs first and running for cover.

His man, Arlus Beastslayer, who happen to fancy plump women, ran over to Annie and lifted her back on her feet. “Aw Annie gal, 'e don' mean it. Trapper Wind's a good fellow. Jus' teasing you, tha's all.” A thick and sturdy Dwarf, he laid his beardy head on her bosom and tried to hug her all around, “Don' you worry, I'll protect ye!” Wind rolled his eyes sardonically and headed carefully up the rickety stairs as his men ran to console Big Annie and order themselves drinks.

When he reached the room, the only private room in the house, he gently laid the girl down on the rough pallet and loosened his armor. He knelt and prayed softly, his words mingling with the loud cheers and rough singing below. On the pallet the girl stirred and sat up with a moan. “I'm sorra' I din stay back. I had to save ya. I..I..din wan ya to die.” Tears welled up in her clear gray eyes.

Wind rose and tossed the girl a damp rag. “Clean yourself up girl.” While she wiped at the dirt that covered her lean frame and made her way to the wooden washbasin that once was a stump, he reached into his pocket and pulled out two well-worn bone dice. He muttered softly, “Windwalker, guide my hand,” and rolled them onto the pallet. Two signs appeared and he sighed immensely. He turned to the girl and took the rag from her hand.

“Peanut is a funny name for a girl.”
She sighed, “I don' know that. People 'round the Holla' get called all sorts of things. Pocky cuz he pockmarked, Two-fingers cuz he lost dem to the axe, and me Ma'm cuz she's the biggest lady in all the Moonwood.” He observed her slowly as she spoke, “Well if you ever leave this hollow, I suggest you pick a better name. Something more suited to a female of your charms. Maybe Clara-belle or Buttercup?”
She smiled oblivious, “Ya think I 'ave charms? I think ya are prob'ly the finest man I ever seen ever.” He smiled softly and brushed back his curling blonde locks, “Yes, I suspect having teeth does put one at an advantage over most woodsmen.” He looked over to the dice and turned back to the lanky girl, “And you've got experience with the boys around here then?”

She nodded matter-a-factly, “Ya mean rollin' in the moss? Slip and tickle? Buryin' the Axe? Lord's yes. Mos' girls aroun' here is got wit child by the time they is 'leven moons if'n not tirteen. But I knows a secret, so it don' 'appen to me.” He relaxed, “Herb of some sort eh?” “Auntie Mee-Maw calls it “Nary-a-baby root,” grows like a weed jus' about er'where.”

His handsome tanned face began a calculated and measured smile which he knew the exact effect of. Wind leaned over the girl and brushed her long black hair seemingly astonished, “By Shandakul's blade, with your hair up, you would nearly rival a fine lady of the city.” He leaned over, took her chin, and gently kissed her lips. “Girl, you really have something unusual about you. My betters would call it a native intelligence and the way you move through the woods like the wind is sheer poetry of form and motion.”

Peanut, girl-of-the-Woodsfolk, was oblivious to all this strange and eloquent praise. For the first time ever, someone had touched her beyond the clammy rough caresses of woods-boys and her mind, body, and spirit were set a-fire like no other had before. The night moved on without them then as time took it's own accord between the two.

Part 2
Swift feet ran down a deer trail, through the ivy, and into a richly flowered meadow. The meadow itself buzzed with a rarity of bees and insects and in itself as almost alien to cool shaded forest. In the center was a great stump, the leftover of some great eldritch sister-tree to the Eilistraee grove gone to a lightning strike.

“Auntie Mee-Maw! Are ya in there?” Peanut cried loudly. Her normally messy black hair was gathered into a leather thong and two gold rings sparkled in her ears newly pierced. “Come in Peanut-girl. Just making a tisnane of elf-saddles and muckroot for the Rootfoot twins. Have the croup, they do.” Her auntie stood quite tall for a sturdy woods-woman and crinkles of age lined her round face heavily, though two somewhat slanted, bright-green eyes twinkled youthfully from their pouched folds.

Sparkling gold and silver rings with large flat gems covered the middle and ring fingers on both hands while the rest of her was garbed in wrapped layers of leaf green wools. Her head was wrapped with a red cloth and her long white hair coiled behind thickly and stone grey. Everyone in the woods knew of her and was related to her so it was said and Peanut was sure she must be her Great-Grandma at least. She waved Peanut over to the table made of a slice of burl and stumps for the base, “Now child, wha' can I do ye for today?”

Peanut's lip trembled, “My lover is leavin' me. I don' want 'im ta go, ah loves 'im more than a black bear lovs 'es Honey.” Auntie's face clouded over with sadness for a moment, “It's that pretty Shandy-kul battle-priest eh? Tha's a problem no herb can cure chile. A man goes where he will. I know why ya came bu even if ya was to get with chile by him, he still would prob'ly run.”

She pouted, “It's been near three seasons, I 'tot we'd be together ferever. He even taught me to reads and write letters. Oh Mee-Maw, what do I do?” She threw herself on the patched feather bed in the corner. Mee-maw muttered something in a strange language and walked over to the prone girl and sat down next to her.

She lifted her up to her side with unusual strength and looked the girl in the eye. He voice suddenly became very clear of the Wood-slang, “You will survive Peanut. This Shandakul fellow has done you a favor in teaching you what you are really worth to this world. Do you know how many girls yer age have ever come to me asking to be free from babies? One. You. You know things. You watch and you see things others here do not see. And I think it is time you leave too.”

“Go with Trapper?” she said hopefully. She raised an eyebrow, “If he would take you. But something tells me he is not the kind of man to have just one woman and to follow him would mean you'd need to change your point of view about many things. I think your passion has blinded you to the fact he is not entirely what he seems to be. But getting out into the world is your destiny. If he won't take you, then you need to take yourself out of here. The world holds so much for a girl like you.”

She cried, “Maw don' aproof' of yer magics, but jus' this once, could ya wiggle ya fingers and make him stay? I promise I won' run away screamin' like last time ya di' it.” Auntie chuckled, “You are not the first impressionable soul to run screaming from my magic you know. But wrapping Mr. Trapper up in vines will only last so long as you may have seen? Honestly, i'm surprised you can even be around him.” The girl looked at her with blush, “Well, part of me, don' want nothin' ta do wit' no lightin' shootin' hoo-doo man. But somethin' else jus' can't resist it. His eyes make me knees all jelly like an I am jus' longing for 'is touch.”
She smiled, “And me?”

Trapper frowned, “Yor' an ol' lady. No use tellin' you are doin' yourself no service messin' wif tha' stuff. Plus yer the only womin' worth talkin' to in the holla'.”
Auntie smirked, “Being old as the dirt has it's privileges.”

She pouted miserably, “I'll die with out 'im. Jus' gonna shrivel up and float away like a leaf.”
Auntie twisted a ring her long finger and sighed softly, “If it were only that simple i'd have gone and dried out a long time ago.” Auntie then rolled her eyes and hugged the girl, “Here take this,” she handed her a bag of gold stowed in a cubby under the table, “And now I must tell you something difficult.” As the words rolled from Auntie's mouth in that strange clear voice, Peanuts world began to spin horribly. She stammered questions as they jammed one after another into her brain. But the answer was the same and she was forever changed.

Part 3
The next day was not a pleasant one. A thick and miserable rain had floated down into the lower forest and everything in the hollow turned to oatmeal thick mud. Peanut stood at the bar next to her mother, pouring an order of thickly brewed beer into mug after mug.

A huge log crackled sullenly in the fireplace and it seemed that no amount of prodding would get it to really spark up and warm the room fully. Big Annie patted her girl-child on the shoulder and smiled, trying to get the girl to share her smile. Peanut just lowered her head and set the mugs down with an angry thump each time.

“Now now gal, don' spill te' Beer. Ya look like a dog tha' los' his favrit' chewin' bone. Trus' me. Ther' be MANY bones where tha' one came from.” She nodded her round face with a look of great knowing.
“Maw. There ain't no man 'round these parts that is wirth spittin' on Trapper's boots. An' I know about what ye di' when I was little.”
Her mother's green eyes swiveled toward the lank girl, “So Auntie tol' ya huh?”
“Ya she tol' me what ya did. I jus' wish you and Paw ha' said it before,” her face darkened. Big Annie shrugged, “We jus' wanted ya ta be safe. Ya already go runnin' off in the woods as it is. Want'd ya to feel you was lov-ed.” Annie's eyes filled with tears, “runnin' a house like dis, keepin' all the girls happy, itz not easy. Yer Paw don' run oft' with that half-elf hussy two yers' now. Ya all I gots Peanut-girl. Tha's why I nev-ah made ya' farm yer puss out when ya' got big. Tho' you coul' do bettah.”

Her Maw pulled Peanut closer with a surprisingly tight grip, “Ya gotta kno' you ain't the only one he was hidin' the quarterstaff with,” she whispered. “He tol' me you was the best, an' he was defini' taken by ya, but he done up many a' girl in the holla'. One evn' tree' moons near havin' his baby right now. Ya gotta protect yerself.” Peanut's face clouded for a moment but then she patted her Maw's pink hand, “You did me rite' Maw. Did'n stop me from farmin' me-self out tho' it seems.”

“Fergit abou' him. If he'n teached ya one thing, it's get what ya want from life and don' wait aroun' for fool ting's like “troo luve” and shinny knights from the bardsong to come and swep you oft your own two good feet. You get out there and you fuck, fight, and get rich, cuz men's are all jus' like Bull Elk. Preenin' an' dancin' for the cows, but in the end every-single-one jus' wants cunny one way-or-te'-other.”

Part 4

In the odd glow of the waxed-paper paned window, two figures laid twined with rough wool blankets. A large tanned hand with one silver-runed ring stroked the tangled black hair of the sinewy woman-child laying curled vulnerably against him.

“We're going to the edge of Anauroch next. Arl's got the boys provisioning right now and stocking up on your goodly woods-beer for extra nutrition.” She muttered softly, “I'm sorra' ya never got to see an Elf while you was 'ere. I saw one once, loveli'st thing and yet wicked deadly look in 'is eye as 'e stared at me. He was a' Buck Elf, proud and wild.”
“You we're lucky to have him not fill you full of arrows, you know.”
She nodded and then nuzzled her face into his furred chest, “Ya I know. I am a lucky chile'. So say Auntie Mee-Maw an' she's as ol' as dirt itself.”

Covered by the thick blankets ((in case any kids were watching)) she slid herself up on-top of him and rolled her hips ever-so-gently into his, “Now, before ya go, I wan' ta give you a gift.” He smiled warmly as he lifted her up and brought her ever so slowly down on to him with a sigh of ultimate enjoyment. Peanut moved carefully as he bucked a little then reached down sideways into his boot and deftly slid out two long hidden stilettos she knew were kept there. It did'nt take long and she did her best to pretend that she had indeed “seen the light” herself.

Then she grasped the metal tools in each of her hands, disengaged herself from him, and pinned both his shoulder to the wooden pallet in one swift pluging movement. Naked and straddling his chest she pulled the two daggers from his bracers and held them to his neck.

The pain was incredible, but with her knowledge of slaughtering prey, she had deftly avoided bone and nailed Wind to the hard wood pallet underneath the straw mattress. “I knew ye' hadn' rested's or prayed for ye magic yet. Don' try nothin” Peanut grabbed a length of rope she had stowed under the mattress while he was out, she tied down his arms, legs, and body to the bed and then gagged him.
Then she stood tall above him, wiped her legs with his clean shirt, and pulled out a small pouch. A nasty grin twisted her features.

“Ya think ya so smart with ya pretty hair, pretty eyes, and Gods'damn enormous talent there. Ya think tha' you can jus' f*** a Woodsgirl and fill her head with promise's of fancies and promise to “take 'er away from all 'dis.” Ya thot' ye could eh? You made a lotta promises to a lotta girls. Lef' three wif babies an' no man ta care for them. Foul I say.”

He struggled with his bonds to no avail. “Oh is tha' rope a bit too tight. Ya' might ask me now, wha's she gonna do? I coul' persay cut off ye stick and trow' it to the dogs? Make a coin' purse from ye coin purse? But nae, i'll leave this one to ya God.” She reached over to where he left his money pouch and pulled out two bone dice. She held one up to the light. “I know how it goes. Heads, means “yes”. The cross-out head means “no.” An these two otters' mean wait and roll again.”

She rolled the dice and he moaned loudly, “Seems old Shandy-kul says “No” to the cuttin'” She rolled again,“And “No” to the coin-purse. A pity. I guess i'll just take yours then? She helped herself to his money-pouch. “All-right dice, should I leave 'em with a mark so he don' forgit to treat girls prop-ly?” His eyes rolled in his head wildly. She rolled one last time,“Yes. Very well than Master Shandakul. I likes yer style.”

She grabbed one of the daggers and started to work across his chest. He screamed and struggled at his bonds as she etched away at his tanned smooth skin. A knock sounded from the door,
“Hey boss you all-right in there?” She looked up, “Course he's all-right, got 'is mouth busy, full of puss. Sod off and go squick yer-self!” “Oh. Sorry there,” his man muttered embarrassed.

She took the pouch she had brought and shook it all over his chest. Then she rubbed in the black soot till she was satisfied with making a large sooty, bloody mess of it. She smiled coldly, “I'm leavin' now and trus' me, you won' be able ta track me where i'm goin',” with that she grabbed his money pouch, tossed one of the die at his head, kept the other, tossed on her ratty tunic, and ran out the door, carefully shutting it behind her.

She muttered to one of his men smooching a whore in the hall near-by, “Trapper's asked ya don' distrub 'im at his prayers for a few hours.” The man nodded and she jounced down the rickety steps, kissed Big Annie on the cheek with a wink, and dashed out into the night. Deep into the forest she found a stump, removed a patched -up sack and tossed it cross her back. As a mournful owl sounded it's call for a mate, she faded into the forest heading southward.

CRASH! The door flew off it's rickety leather hinges. Arlus Beastslayer frantically ran to his friends side and removed the gag. Wind tiredly spoke, “Gods-damn-you Arlus. Why do you have to always be right?” Wind took a bit of cloth as he sat up and began fastidiously wiping his chest clean. Arlus stifled a laugh and tried to look serious. Wind frowned, “And I am NEVER teaching a whore to write again.” The black tattoo shone swollen from his sculpted chest, “PEANUT FERVER.”
Last edited by CloudDancing on Sun Feb 21, 2010 4:45 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Re: The Life and Times of Trapper Wind [NC-17]

Post by danielmn »

:lol: awesome
Swift wrote: Permadeath is only permadeath when the PCs wallet is empty.
Zyrus Meynolt: [Party] For the record, if this somehow blows up in our faces and I die, I want a raise

<Castano>: danielnm - can you blame them?
<danielmn>: Yes,
<danielmn>: Easily.

"And in this twilight....our choices seal our fate"
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Re: The Life and Times of Trapper Wind [NC-17]

Post by CloudDancing »

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-mkr19RSG6k
the first of a small series of dialogs between these two. The music is the song in question, not exactly bard song, but it is close to Lett's song. This post will be edited and updated slowly

The moon lay in the sky, a slim white bow overfull of azure blue, and Trapper Wind, the lank walker of the trade roads, stood shadowed underneath the long branches of a weeping willow tree outside of the Rivermoot gates, her gray eyes staring out over the water, with dried tears on her face.

Her fingers tangled tightly into the hanging branches and she swung back and forth in an noticable time. Lett's slow sweet song trickled up and in out of her mind, into her body, slipping down to tap at her feet, and she bobbed her head drunkenly with a smile, stretching her neck up and down to feel the sound inside her. The bottle swung in her hand back and forth in time as she slowly spun and danced suspended by the tree itself.

Her lean hips shifted softly with a graceful swish and she turned pushing out herself into a tight swaying circle swinging around the willow tree. She took a drink again and laughed to herself, and twisted grinding her hips up, mimicing cruelly the chaste court dance she had witnessed between the graceful Sun Elven Laque and the young Elven Myoro the night before.

With dark thoughts of sheer disgust and a twist of anger, she took the dance and made into something a little harsher and abrupt, the song that he sung still ripped at her, tearing up feelings dark, cruel, and terrible. She took a drink, nodding to the hum of it, the sound of the deep rich tenor tearing at her, deeply bending down, her hair shifting in the wind, to sway with the invisible time and motion of it.

With a hard yank she pulled her hands to twine firmly with the long leafy branches, dropped the bottle, flipped herself to run up the tree trunk and landed perched on all fours of a branch a few feet in the air. Still panting, she curled her lip with a sneer and froze at familiar steps of leather boots well-made, “I hear ye, Laque.”

The tall sultry blonde Elven strode toward her and leaned back against the tree grinning looking up a drunken but content smile on his handsome face. She swung a little from the branches and sniffed lightly at his scent, her cheeks red from the drink.

“Let us hope Grull heard me as well.”
She raised up to hang out from the tree and nodded dubiously, “What he hears is limitid'”
He peered at the bottle on the ground, “Any of that whiskey left?”
She laughed roughly and swung her hips softly again, sillouetted by the blue and the black of the shadowed tree limbs, “I think' that bottle be near down to the scum, but help yerself. Bu' scum's where the strength lies.”
“My favorite flavor, “ He swallowed hard and grinned again widely while slowly exhaling through his teeth, “So I have said all my life.”
Last edited by CloudDancing on Fri Feb 19, 2010 3:14 am, edited 2 times in total.
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Re: The Life and Times of Trapper Wind [NC-17]

Post by Audark »

Well written, small factual note ;) Laque is a sun elf
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Re: The Life and Times of Trapper Wind [NC-17]

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Audark wrote:Well written, small factual note ;) Laque is a sun elf
Oooo. I need to listen more and not look at the avatars. >< *changes it*
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Re: The Life and Times of Trapper Wind [NC-17]

Post by dergon darkhelm »

Audark wrote:Well written, small factual note ;) Laque is a pussy
Fixed it for ya ;)


Great stuff, cloud. A really refreshing perspective.
PCs: NWN1: Trailyn "Wayfarer" Krast, Nashkel hayseed

NWN2: ??

gsid: merado_1
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