Thread: Fortune's Eyes, Fortune's Hands [Ariamella & grungeknuckle]

RE Fortune's Eyes, Fortune's Hands BlinkyWinky grungeknuckle No, no, no, don't lose that fire, girl. You'll need it. Devlin teased. You made me get creative. And this little bit here? He twirled his finger at Felicity's state, This isn't me getting creative. This is me getting started. Two more things completed Felicity's ensemble. The dead man's belt, snug around her neck, making a makeshift collar. And a gag, for which Devlin wadded up the girl's own underwear, stuffed it in her mouth, and secured it with another thin band of leather. Devlin tied the rope he'd used as a clothesline the previous night to the collar, and held tightly to the other end, as he threw on his own clothes, and stuffed the last of their belongings into the remaining bags. But, you are right, however. We do need to get moving. And that's just what we're gonna do. He was still grinning like a fiend, as he hoisted Felicity to her feet. Little fishing village down the way called Estfall Point, about 20 or so people. We're gonna go get supplies! With a jerk on the rope, Devlin encouraged Felicity to start walking, whistling a lively tune as he strode along. ------------------------------------------------------------ Estfall Point was a tiny wilderness village, Half it's trade came from fishing, the other half lumber. It had no wall, no gate, and just a simple log-lined footpath acting as a main road. The buildings had sprung up haphazardly, growing from a simple shack and tents, to a cluster of log and driftwood buildings, with sheds, lean-to's and additions being constructed as needed. There was no Inn to speak of, but being used to the intermittant wanderer and traveler, a few stalls for trade had been constructed. The original building had been expanded over the years, and now served as a meeting hall and tavern of sorts, where the villagers could gather with one another, and trade coin, drink, and stories with whomever passed through their quaint little home. Devlin and Felicity, but mostly Felicity, were drawing attention as they approached the village. One man in particular, graying beard, bald head, with an old, tanned, but heavily muscled body, came striding over to them, a sword at his side and a battered shield on his back. He had no armor to speak of, but his clothes looked heavy, and durable. Scars decked his exposed arms, marking him, most likely, as the villages self-appointed protector and guard. Hail, traveler! The man called out. Though his words were friendly, his eyes were concerned and suspicious, darting from Devlin to Felicity. Why have you bound this girl? And why is she naked? He was doing his best to avert his gaze from Felicity. Devlin sighed, as if he'd been asked that same question a hundred times that day, and handed the man a folded parchment. Briarwitch I'm collecting a bounty on, he said in a bored monotone. Trust you me, I'd rather not see this much of her either, but I couldn't risk her hiding a charm or token on her person. Can't risk her speaking either, else she'd hex me like she did the last three hunters. The older man nodded knowingly as he looked over the parchment, before handing it back to Devlin. It was just a torn page from the dead man's journal, but like most of the peasantry, this man was illiterate. Is... is she a danger to our village? the older man asked. Now that he'd been informed of Felicity's vile nature, he seemed less concerned about her dignity, and more willing to look her up and down. Shouldn't be, but we'll be moving on shortly. With the same slow, calculated boredom, Devlin slipped the parchment back into his bag, I just wish I could have cashed her in at Gwynathell, but now that the city's fallen, I'v- The older man jerked his head away from Felicity. Fallen? What do you mean, fallen? Fear and shock spread about his face. Devlin mimicked that same shock. You mean you haven't heard? Monsterous beings, some vile creatures from the depths, rose up and took it! It's been invaded! The old man brought a hand up to his mouth, eyes wide with terror. Gods above preserve us. We... I've... You've got to get a militia up and running, Devlin interjected, nodding his head pointedly. The old man nodded back. Yes... yes, of course. He quickly turned back to the village, running, hollering at various villagers. A slow tricksters smile spasmed across Devlin's face, as soon as the old man had turned his back. It was quickly stifled, and he strode forward. The further they went into the village, the more eyes turned to view them. Outside of Estfall's Hall, Devlin tied the end of Felicity's rope to the hitching post, as if she were a horse. Now don't you worry that sweet cunny of yours. I'll be right back. Devlin hissed into her ear, before sauntering away. Behind her, in the same street, most of the men in the village were being gathered and organized for the militia.