Whitzz/544K-RP-Datasets huggingface dataset:
Thread: Living Blade (Blood/Fury & deadmanshand)

Vivian giggled as he used her word for the posturing above and behind them. She held her hand out, beckoning him to take it as she walked a few quicker paces towards the trees, where the shadows fell. Special? What makes you think its a special occasion? It didnt look so special to me. She made a sound between her lips and her teeth and waved the thought away. Youve not witnessed anything to remark on yet, Im afraid. Wait until you see what Ive got lined up for later. She glanced back at him over her shoulder, grinning wide and letting her own mirthful gaze linger on his. Maybe Im a wild godling of the woods, breaking away from my captors to return home. She teased him. Or perhaps it was a childish challenge. The surly man on the terrace. Pry him from his drink! She peered up at him, a smirk on her face. It looks like it worked well enough. Actually, she confessed, looking down at her feet for a few moments as she took to the path. My brothers and I are bound for Valois shortly after sunrise. This was my fathers voyage gift for us, at least professed. She gestured back towards the now-abandoned terrace. Since were going as more of a formality than anything else, Im of the opinion the whole show is unnecessary, but Bo and Dag wanted their own moment in the light. Something along the lines of it being part of our education or some such. Apparently two years at the University of the Holy See wasnt enough for them. It was, in part, the reason shed never attended a party like this in her adult life, that drive for her education. Shed enjoyed the last few years, blissfully free of the frills and frustrations of life at court. She could be diplomatic, of course, when the situation called for it, but shed rare come across a situation that might not have fared better if another persons pride hadnt been set aside so that truth could have some room to grow. Honesty, however, was long out of fashion. It might be a foregone conclusion, this treaty, Im glad to be of some use. And getting out into the world again! The house has become stuffy, and I would be out of it for a time. Not that I dont love my family mind you. She turned then, holding up an index finger admonishingly as though her companion had dared to insinuate otherwise. But I could do with a few less parties and a little more purpose.
Thread: Living Blade (Blood/Fury & deadmanshand)

A few less parties and a little more purpose... Eilert repeated slowly. His eyes distant for a second. It was an echo of his thoughts - unspoken among the peacocks that called these parties home. After a moment he broke from his thoughts to regard the hand she held out before reaching out to take it in his hand. Her skin almost glowingly pale against the black leather. He followed along listening to he cheerful flood of banter. It was witty and lighthearted and genuinely in good humor. A far cry from the empty words filling the halls of that party. And just as far from the fireside talks of the soldier. A kind of conversation for better times and places. The only time her words produced anything other than a smile was when she spoke of Valois. His face hardened for a moment - a glimpse of granite in his features - but it was quickly enough gone. Valois is lovely this time of year. Rolling hills covered in hyacinth and primrose. Wreathed in dogwood and magnolia trees, his voice was wistful but there was something else to it. An edge hidden in the beauty. Butterflies flit from flower to flower in a dizzying array of color and motion. It is a beautiful country. He fell silent. What he said was true but it wasn't the whole truth. For every such sight such as he had described there had been a dozen battlefields left smoking and ruined. Twice that many or more in nobles who'd used the peasantry as their own personal playthings. Each one leaving another scar on his flesh. After a few minutes he shook his head trying to clear the mood that had crept upon him. So my wild godling - my childish challenger, the soldier said throwing her self professed titles at her good naturedly and giving her a long look. Do you have a name? Or are you just a nameless spirit escaping captivity and dragging me along for the ride?
Thread: Living Blade (Blood/Fury & deadmanshand)

Ooh! She said, laughing. Nameless spirit. I like that. I would claim it, only... She lifted a hand to her chin, as though contemplating the moniker's worth. I think it would ironically defeat itself. She shrugged, letting her free hand drop and holding tighter to his. She walked along, just barely ahead of him, tugging him in her wake any time her movements took her over uneven ground. But I suppose if you had to put a name to me, then it might as well be accurate. I'm Vivian. She took a large step over a root, pointing down to it to alert him of the hazard. Almost as an afterthought she added Amsberg. Though to be clear, I do prefer 'Wild Godling'. She put her free hand to his gloved limb that held hers, mimicking the way she had hung from the wall as she crossed over to walk backwards in front of him. And what of my saviour, hrm? The soldier who sacrificed his drink to help the wildling maiden escape? She looked up at him, her eyes searching his and ignoring the terrain behind her. It seemed a mildly foolish thing to do, given the propensity of the ground to dip and rise unexpectedly and the relative lack of light beneath the canopy of the woods. Even so, her feet seemed to pick out the surest path, with the few exceptions that made her stumble slightly and giggle with the unconcerned giddiness of her newfound freedom and the joy of the pleasant company. He was more than she could have expected, here tonight, and she was lucky to have found him. Even if by a mixture of accident and bullying. He was certainly a soldier. She didn't miss how his face clouded at the mention of Valois. They had reason to be wary of the subject of course, for the last century or so. The way he walked, limp aside, the way he spoke so succinctly and directly, how he adjusted his clothing to be presentable... It was fascinating to watch. And yet, here he was, amongst the nobles in her father's hall. Who was he, to have warranted such an invitation? Clearly no one who felt mutually about those in the room as they must have of him. In the momentary stripes of moonlight that fell past his face as they walked, he looked ... complicated. Sad and angry and entertained and internalized in odd ways that made him captivating. She was intrigued by the way he was cobbled together, as though from different stones that had been forced to become a whole. Like a hearth. Quiet and cold, for the moment, though. An empty hearth.
Thread: Living Blade (Blood/Fury & deadmanshand)

Vivian... Eilert said her name like he was tasting it. Savoring it. Alive. It was a fitting name for the free spirited woman by his side. Amsberg was less suitable. A name for courts and politics so at odds with what she had shown him. Well met then, Vivian Amsberg. Though I will keep your preference for the other in mind. Despite his limp he was surefooted in the dark if not necessarily graceful. Stable. When she stumbled he steadied her with a reflexive gesture - a simple hand upon her arm till she regained her footing. It was a gentleman's action but it was less etiquette schooling and more a mother's ingrained orders. For the moment he was content to walk and listen and it was with notable reluctance that he contemplated her question. What was his name? He had so many titles these days. The Sword of the King... the Dragon of Ashes ...the Lord Mayor of Kolding ...champion and noble they named him but was any of it true anymore? He had been those things. Had earned them in fire and blood. Now he was an ornament. A victory trophy to be pulled out for parties and parades. A shiny toy that used to be a weapon. My name... the soldier said his voice faltering. My name is Eilert - and I would not say I sacrificed a drink. It was just the best company I could find before you came along. To be fair before you came along it didn't have a lot of competition.
Thread: Living Blade (Blood/Fury & deadmanshand)

Vivian smiled as he said her name. She rather enjoyed how it sounded in his voice. Like something tender held between protective hands. It made her feel good to hear it. As well you should. Doesnt every woman fancy herself a goddess? It might do you some good in the future. Reflexively, as she reflected on his voice, she closed her fingers firmer around his hand. The compliment made her blush as she reflected on the way she had swept him along with her. He was certainly charming, in his stuffy soldiers way. What a fitting name, Eilert. She imagined the type of imagery that might have gone along with the name. A man standing on a battlefield before fallen foes, his blade in one hand and that long, dark hair flowing in some imagined wind. She grinned at the idea. With a sword glowing hot like Like Like the legends of the Dragon. She gasped and turned to him suddenly, her eyes wide with some strange mixture of delight and regret. She raised her free hand to her face and pulled the other from his grip, pointing up towards him in a gesture that might have been accusatory, had she herself not seen it trembling slightly. Oh, no! She said, thinking back to her words to him on the terrace. Oh, youre him! She reached out that same hand again, moving it down to the hand shed just let go of. Instead of replacing hers, however, she gripped at his wrist in an imploring gesture. Im so, SO sorry. Oh, the things I said. I never meant to make light of you. Shed called him a puppet, a prize, had demeaned his status in the kingdom Oh, how bitter those words tasted now, realizing shed said them to the man himself. When was she ever going to learn to keep her words to herself?
Thread: Living Blade (Blood/Fury & deadmanshand)

There is no need to apologize. You have said nothing to give offense, Eilert said gently taking her from his wrist and offering his arm again as they had been. The gesture was the first courtly gesture he'd made but his small smile painted it as sincere. Well no offense to me. I am sure the peacocks in the parade may feel differently about the things you said. He fell silent. Thinking of how to return things to the way they were before she learned the truth of him. Or at least the legend they painted as truth. All the others saw him as that and they treated him like a prized showpiece rather than a man. For her - for Vivian - he just wanted to be her soldier companion. Whatever I did... whatever titles I earned... I did so long ago on battlefields whose name is remembered only by historians and survivors. They mean little anymore. You are closer to being a Wild Godling than I am to being a dragon, he said with a voice holding weary resignation as he looked up at the night sky - but his eyes did not see stars. They were focused on bygone years when a fire still burned his breast. Breaking the mood he gave a shake of his head and short, sharp laugh before saying, And now I am being poor company. Let us just say that I would rather be Eilert the simple soldier who helped a rather charming young lady escape a very boring doom than be the Sword of the King tonight.
Thread: Living Blade (Blood/Fury & deadmanshand)

Vivian allowed her hand to be moved, taking the proffered arm as much out of reflex as out of a desire to accept the companionship it offered in turn. She was still holding one hand over her mouth when he spoke once again of the strange menagerie theyd left behind, allowing her palm to muffle some of the involuntary laughter. For a moment, her disquiet dissolved in the mirth with which he replaced her embarrassment. She listened to his reflection on events past, thinking how very unfair it all was. Here was a man worth more than all the jewels of cowards in her fathers house and yet he felt as though his contributions were long past. She was no historian, yet she knew the tales. And shed certainly never encountered anything more encumbering than lessons and parties worth claiming as survival. She wanted to ask him if he truly did not know how far his legend reached. Shed heard many questions at the University, from those who had dared to finally ask the Amsberg children if they had ever seen the Dragon. Of course, they had. True parades in youth and distant views had left them with questions that could only be answered in modern mythos. The legendary Dragon, the man with the burning blade, who vanquished Valosian foes with singular strikes from the extension of the weapon that had molded him. Some claimed it was more than a name, that he was born of dragons and hidden amongst the human range, while others claimed his mother was a witch who had blessed him with the powers that made him so fearsome on the battlefield. There were, of course, things that were explained a little more realistically, a more accurate approach to history, but being less indulgent of such flights of fancy, they drew the attention of far fewer than the embellished tales of the mighty warrior. But he didnt seem to want to be reminded of any of these. Instead, he seemed to want to escape them. Why would someone want to forget tales of their life, when it was so colourful and strong as what he had accomplished? He had, or so the legends claimed, all but singlehandedly protected all of the Midtelands from the scourge of Valois towards the end of the Hundred Years war. Some said it was fear of him that had brought the war to an end, forcing the shaky peace between the nations. The peace that she was to be sent to solidify in the morning. How odd, she thought, that his legend should be wrapped up in her signature. She leaned against his arm, one hand on both sides of the fore and her forehead against the fabric that covered the upper as she smiled. It seems, she finally settled on saying. As though you have saved me more than once. He had saved them all, in the end. The nobles that stood to lose if the Midteland was overrun. The children of noble homes, who would have been sent to slaughter had they been conquered. The escape from the party and now from her own clumsiness. The legends had never mentioned his benevolence before. Well, they would now.
Thread: Living Blade (Blood/Fury & deadmanshand)

I am no savior, Vivian, Eilert said softly placing his free hand over hers. The words held a conviction to them as if he had long ago come to terms with what he was - or what he believed he was. Hero was just another term for dead man on the battlefield and he had given up such notions long ago. Tonight I only played the assistant in your escape and it is a part I am greatly enjoying. He started them back down the path though he had no idea where it ended. All he knew is that it is where she wanted to go and he was willing to go where she wanted to tonight. For the first time in a long time he felt at peace. Vivian was more than he could have expected from this event. Charming, vivacious, beautiful, and more than a little wild. With her head against his arm he felt more like a man than he had in a long time. So what do you do at these parties without someone to lower you from the terrace? Do you take a safer route or do you jump? I must admit that I can the latter more than the former, the soldier said with a small laugh in his voice. You seem the type to jump rather than be bored to tears. Reminds me of a soldier I marched with many years ago. A Rekkrvakan named Ulf. Joined the army of Midtelande to impress a girl he met here. Fearless in battle but give him a boring Sunday afternoon and you would get trouble. Eilert continued after a brief pause, I remember a break in the war. A couple of months as each side paused to take stock. Tense for the nobles but a welcome breather for the soldiers. Except Ulf. He wanted to go to town and all the horses were under watch as the Horsemaster took stock of them. So he broke into a farmers paddock to steal a cow to ride and I - and the rest of the unit - were woken up to chase down the herd that had followed him into town. Herding cows from a bar is harder than you would you imagine.
Thread: Living Blade (Blood/Fury & deadmanshand)

Vivian laughed at the idea of soldiers trying to navigate drunken patrons and closely-packed tables in order to achieve the attention of stubborn livestock munching on various articles of clothing and dinnerware. She made a lowing sound in her throat, a decent imitation of a cow as she used her hip and shoulder to gently bump into Eilert from the one side. Her head swiveled as she chuckled at her own antics, scanning the trees momentarily for a path she knew to be nearby. It was smaller than this, not having been walked by the plethora of feet that had seen to this place, leaving the dirt as packed as to have imitated stone but for the hollow sounds of feet passing over. What did he say when you told him? She left only a brief pause between that and the next question, perhaps unfairly, but a product of her enthusiasm. Did he help? The idea of being able to stop her giggling over the idea was almost ludicrous at this juncture. It reminded her, in some small way, that armies were made of men, of lives, of tangible things with stories and loves and affections that were as full and real as any in the courts. Most significantly more so. She reflected on that even as her eyes scanned the places between the trees, hoping to find her goal. These men lived, grew and died, giving up their place in each narrative so that hers and those like her could continue. Most of her ilk were fond of declaring the necessity for war and maintaining that such service was an honour, but if a single life of theirs was ever offered in sacrifice, she would have been much surprised. Suddenly, she saw what she was looking for. She made a noise in the back of her throat and started for the place where the slight gap in the undergrowth led to her favourite clearing by the lake, forgetting her grip on Eilerts arm rather rudely as she began to tug him towards it with her. This way! The hissed excitedly, pushing leaves and branches aside as she ducked into the pathway. It opened up slightly, just beyond the first few dozen steps, leaving her to crouch slightly as she made her way into the passage that resounded in childhood memories. I want to show you something. It was her own little hideaway, when shed been too young to attend the parties which at that age, had seemed so glamorous but too old to listen when told to stay in her rooms. She couldnt count the number of times when shed found herself wandering this now-overgrown tunnel into her secret place.
Thread: Living Blade (Blood/Fury & deadmanshand)

Eilert laughed at her cow imitation - even returning the bump with his own hip - before answering, If by help you mean riding his cow and drunkenly crowing about being the Cow God then, yes, he helped. The rest of the men and I did not agree. After we retrieved the rest of the cows we took his Bovine Majesty and threw him into the river. In the middle of winter. Naked. Then we made him clean the stables for a month. It's a punishment I still threaten him with every so often when he gets restless. Not that it ever stops the old goat, the soldier conceded if only in his own head. He had been the man's commanding officer for nearly ten years before he became his lord and he had no more ability to reign in his spells than he could command the weather. At least his son was more amenable. Most of the time anyway. Her sudden excitement caught him up almost immediately. It was the thrill of youth to have and love secret places but it was a contagious feeling. One that stripped away years from even the most scarred of soldiers leaving him the same boy who had once had a cave he called his own hidden in the woods around his home. So it was with a wild grin that looked almost out of place on the hard edged face that he followed her down the tunnel.
Thread: Living Blade (Blood/Fury & deadmanshand)

Pulling the foliage away and out of the line of difficulty for Eilert, Vivian gazed around the trail, pleased that it was still largely visible despite the years she'd been without traveling it. She and her brothers had cleared it one year, using nothing but knives from the dining room, the entire summer spent hacking away on the mission they had decided was not only necessary, but neglected. You'll love the view from down here. She insisted, her hand gripping his firmly as she led him along. You can see the whole lake, but barely anything can see you. We used to drag a picnic down there - well, bread and cheese and some water, which when you're eight, is a picnic - and we would insist we were running away. Mind you, bread can only last so long, and four hours later we'd be back. Always made us so mad that no one seemed to miss us. She giggled to herself, pulling his arm closer and standing at a point where the limbs seemed to hold back from the trail. Slowly, after only a minute or two of travel, the faint edge of the clearing could be seen manifesting as a slight increase in moonlight and the faint hint of the dark, still surface of the lake ahead. The grass is thick and tall, you can hide away from all the world there. She began to push forward, faster, with an excitement that could almost be felt vibrating through her hands. When she finally pushed the last few thin branches away from the path, the area revealed was nearly perfectly round, the far edge just barely parting enough to let the shore of the lake kiss the grasses underfoot. The gentle slope of the land gave an almost amphitheater view of the splash of moonlight that danced across the glassy water. The sky could be seen clearly, silver-washed clouds in the moonlight drifting lazily across the star-brushed sky. The trees stood vigil against the rest of the forest, silently holding back the unknown to create the safety of the tiny, utopian pocket. And home! She beamed over at Eilert, holding her hand out in display.
Thread: Living Blade (Blood/Fury & deadmanshand)

Eilert let her talk without interruption as she guided him through her secret world - tempering his long stride to hers. Her enthusiasm needed no help from his clumsy tongue. It was both contagious and energizing. An engine of vitality driving them through the gentle night with word and touch. She was the most pleasant taskmaster of any march he had ever made and the experience left him grinning. The reveal widened his eyes. It was truly a pocket of paradise hidden among the trees and the grass. Moonlight rippling across the lake and leaves swaying in a gentle breeze made it a home far more relaxing than any keep of stone and steel he has slept in. And not another soul in sight. Just the two of them in the night. It was perfect. I understand your excitement now. This is spectacular, he said sincerely gesturing towards the grotto. A far sight better than anything we left behind. Though I wish we had taken the makings of a picnic of our own. They may not have had the makings of a picnic but it at least gave him an idea of what to do. Eilert walked slowly through the clearing - feeling as much as looking - till he found what he was looking for. A smooth spot with a good view - someplace comfortable for them both. Satisfied with a spot just back from the edge of the water he reached up and undid the clasp of his mantle cloak. With a quick whipping motion he splayed it out across the grass like a blanket. Turning to Vivian he offered his hand and asked with exaggerated formality, May I offer you a seat, m'lady?