Of memories past...(open)

[carmen]

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"The happiest memories are of moments that ended when they should have." - Robert Brault
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Vala had never exactly been known for it's welcoming spirit, nor for it's warm and fuzzy attitude, the very thought was laughable. Yet as Carmen's feet carried her over the thick muddy street, she couldn't help but feel a little happy. How strange that a place so miserable could spark a longing almost nostalgic emotion. She had grown up here, of course back then it wasn't the aggressive battling town it was these days. But Carmen had the ability to see only what she wanted. If people wanted to kill each other down the grimy back alleys, fine. Ignorance was bliss, in her mind that didn't happen. Not here, not in her childhood home. Memories of this place were comforting. Obviously nothing ever stayed the same, she remembered the buildings looking cleaner, the people had looked less hostile and she could have sworn everywhere seemed greener this time of year.

Rain lashed down heavily, the heavens had opened around ten minutes ago and it's attitude had been unwavering. Dirt and earth had quickly turned into mud which caked itself around the shoes as everybody hurried about. Everybody doing their own business, heads down, eyes averted. A spot of rain didn't bother these townsfolk, a flood was the least of their worries, some had lived here all their lives, they were as cold and hard as nails. You had to be if you wanted to live here. Not that anybody WANTED to live here, it just sort of...happened. Then people grew old and Vala was all they knew, they couldn't leave. The whole town had a subtle smell of grime and sweat."Smell that?!" her father would always ask proudly "that's the smell of a hundred people doing a hard days work" she had always smiled and nodded, but had never smelled anything, until today.

Carmen trudged along, she rather liked the rain, it was refreshing. No destination in mind, she just let her feet lead her trusting their judgment, they would echo her footsteps from many moons ago. She stopped in her tracks to shake some mud from her heavy boots, it was getting increasingly hard to walk without slipping and sliding. Her light eyes fell upon a large building, one of the largest in the town. Constructed from crude handmade clay bricks and huge rotting wooden beams; a hand painted sign read 'The forest inn' with a large and badly painted black tree beneath. A small smile played on the woman's lips. She remembered here.

Walking into the building she looked around, it hadn't changed one bit. The only difference between in here and out there was that inside had a fire. But however hard it was roaring, heat failed to warm the room. It seeped instead out of all the cracks in the walls and holes in the roof. A number of buckets and pans littered the tables and floor among the occupants catching drips and trickles of water. Carmen lowered her hood and shook her spiky hair back into a more comfortable position. You didn't go to a hostile village and keep your face concealed, or any village for that matter. It was deemed threatening and you would soon find yourself in a fight. Not that Carmen wasn't against the odd bar fight, but here it would feel disrespectful to the younger her that had grown up drinking and addressing the barman by his first name.

So what was she looking for? That was the main question. Why had she come here? She had managed to stay away from the town for over thirty years but today she had returned, why? She had always assumed Vala would bring back painful and hazy memories of the day she was turned. But she had proved herself wrong, instead her mind had been full of pleasant thoughts. Her father teaching her to read by candle light, an hour every night before bed. Her mother knitting more and more quilts to throw on the beds as winter drew nearer and her sister giving her a handmade birthday present the day before Carmen had left the family home. She sat herself down at the closest barstool surprised at just how busy the place was. Although then again in Vala, if you weren't working, you were drinking, there wasn't anything else to do except work, eat, drink, make babies and raise children.

Perhaps it was just closure she was after. Since her father's death she hadn't ever felt settled. She was told he had been murdered while collecting firewood in the black forest. But this wasn't exactly shocking news, it wasn't a normal day in Vala until news of rape, murder or violence had met your ears. She didn't feel any anger towards the killers, no vengeful plots. Obviously if she found then she would tear them limb from limb because of course that is what anybody would do. But she just wanted to feel settled. Perhaps visiting, if only for the day, would do that for her. She spun on her stool looking through the crowd to see if she spotted any faces she recognized.

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Words: 850
Tagged: open
Notes: First RP post on the site, I have no intended direction in mind, so let's see what happens!

[krael]

Drisan Krine sat in the darkest most shadowy corner of the Forest Inn in the village of Valla, the northernmost village of the Land of Light. It was basically the jumping off point between the Land of Light and the Land of Darkness. He knew that the inhabitants of the godsforsaken hole of a village had interesting lives to say the least. But he however, hated everything about the village and its inhabitants. From the stinking squalls than turned the ground into a ocean of ankle high sludge, to the one eyed hag sitting across the room guzzling ale and eying him like he was a piece of prime cut. He resolved to look as menacing and unapproachable as he could; hoping that that would be enough to ward her off.

Drisan took a swing of beer from the mug in front of him and made a face, it tasted like fermented fish water. But he needed to dull his extra sensitive senses as much as possible. Just being in this common room was agony. The loud shrieking laughter of that group of harlots in the corner were like nails being driven into his eardrums and the mixture of dried sweat, wet fur, rancid fat, and unwashed bodies was powerful enough to make his eyes water.

The Alpha Wolf shrugged and took another swing, draining it almost to the bottom. Drisan cursed softly and willed time to hurry. He wanted to get the business that had dragged him all the way out of his nice cozy forest into this rainy muddy little hellhole over with so he could go back to where he belong.

Just then the doors squeaked opened upon rusty hinges and someone entered. Without even looking up Drisan took a deep sniff, wondering if he could smell anything above the vile stench of the place. The Werewolf’s head snapped up and a frown crept over his strong features. It couldn’t be his contact; it was several hours before the appointed hour.

Hang on, it definitely can’t be Shadowfur.………

His contact was male and elderly, the scent he had picked up heralded a young female. His eyes locked upon the source of the aroma. She was young by Wolf standards, Drisan knew that she hadn’t passed her first century yet. She still smelt fresh; traces of humanity still lingered on her. Her appearance was still that of a woman in her early twenties though. Her built was petite and her straight blond hair was cut very short. She was definitely not from the Krine Pack.

The woman took a seat at the bar and began looking around, perhaps she had scented him. Drisan drained the rest of the stinking beer before smoothly rising to his feet. The female Wolf at the bar was not from his pack, nor was she very attractive; usually she would be invisible to him. But when he was in a smelly bar filled with smellier humans, the company of his own kind was definitely preferable.

Drisan began to thread towards her, going directly across the room, so as to ensure that she saw him. He smiled slightly and put one hand atop his sword pommel.

Words: 537

Outfit:click

Notes: Hope you don’t mind me cutting in. :-)

[carmen]

Her long coat dripped onto the already damp floor, the smell of rotting timber was strong. Sometimes a keen nose wasn't always a blessing, it was wonderful when you were hunting, when you could smell an injured animals from hundreds of yards away. But when sitting waiting for a drink, the stench of dirt, sweat and mold wasn't very pleasant. She forced herself to ignore it as she hitched up a small smile and greeted the barman. His old face grew a look of dawning realization yet he said nothing, perhaps worried he may be mistaken. He took her order and left to retrieve it.

Her hands drummed lightly on the scrubbed wooden bar as her eyes studied any individuals she deemed of interest. There were of course all the usual 'types' of people one would expect in such a seedy place. There were the hopeful young men trying to encourage each other to ask the barmaid on a date. The even younger men attempting to drink alcohol and look tough without gagging at it's strong taste. The old men, drinking buddies from years back, playing cards and leering at the women. The older women ignoring their age and trying to reclaim their youth by drinking together and talking of better times. Then of course, the brooding strangers who favors the shadows, those that didn't ask questions or give answers. The ones that considered themselves mysterious and dangerous. Nobody cared to test this in case they were discovered to be right, but by that time it was too late to argue with a sword in your belly.

A grubby pint glass was place before her, the liquid which she supposed SHOULD have been a deep amber color was rather faded, probably watered down. The glass was cloudy and unwashed, small bits of things she would rather not know about floated in the foam. That was the thing about Vala, everybody shared, that meant everything down to mugs and diseases. If you got sick from a bad pint, well that was your own fault stranger, you should have a stronger stomach.
She took up the pint and handed over a small silver coin for payment.

A new smell found it's way to her nostrils, one that wasn't as disgusting as the rest. In fact it was a comforting smell, a familiar smell. She browsed the patrons until her eyes locked on those of a man standing not too far away. His eyes held a trace of knowing in them. Dark skin, an even darker expression, he gave off the impression of one that was not too happy about being here. He clearly wasn't a Vala citizen, they reveled in the misery believing coping here made them stronger, a tough upbringing created tough people. But this guy looked pretty tough anyway. He looked back to her, a small smile. This made him seem a little less threatening. She returned a small welcoming smile. A werewolf like herself no doubt. He had that 'feeling' about him. She still wasn't the best at recognizing packs, she knew each had their own 'style' as such. But she had never been part of a pack. She walked on over to join him. "Well, you look as out of place as these people would in a palace" she said with an amused tone. The man was obviously not here on a social visit.

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Words: 563
Tagged: Drisan
Notes: Not at all, welcome.

[krael]

“Is it really that obvious?” Drisan chuckled as he sank down into the barstool besides hers. “I thought I was hiding it fairly well.”

Drisan debated the pros and cons of ordering a next beer. On one hand the smell was sill as strong as ever, on the other hand he wasn’t sure his stomach could take a next assault so soon after the first one. In the end he decided to walk on the side of caution and leave it. He eyed the female once more, while he discreetly took a deeper sniff.
He wondered where she was from, she didn’t smell like any of the few Lone Wolves he had come across. If any of them had been the one who Turned her he would have been able to smell their scent still.

“So what are you doing here in this out of the way hell-land?” Drisan said with a shiver.
Gods, never again would he personally see to a mission which brought along with it such indignations.
“As a matter of fact where are you from anyway? You’re not a part of my pack.”
The Krine Pack was the largest Wolf Pack in Rendoria. Drisan did everything in his power to be sure of that. Other packs were uncommon but whenever he came across them they either joined his or were slaughtered to a one. He could not allow a rouge Wolf pack running around embarrassing themselves and the Werewolf nation.

“And forgive my manners lady,” he added as an afterthought. “Our surroundings has got me a bit wound up. My name is Drisan Krine, Alpha Male of Pack Krine. Would you see it fit to grant me with yours?”
He bowed his head politely before glancing back at her face as he waited for her to reply.

Words: 294
Tag: Carmen

[carmen]

She gave a light chuckle which sounded strange considering the current surroundings. People here didn't laugh, they didn't smile, nobody ever cracked a grin, why would they? They lived, they worked, they drunk, there was no time to merrymaking; everybody was far too busy living their lives. She took a wary sip of the pint in her hand, it tasted far from what she remembered beer to taste like. Her face wrinkled with confusion, perhaps it was watered down enough so the contents of the tankard was now purely dirty water. It still had that hops smell to it, but that was the only thing separating it from the rain water that leaked from the roof.

"Visiting" she replied simply, it was the easiest explanation, she didn't feel like launching into a story of coming here to gather some memories, it sounded too immature, only children cared of the past. Adults looked forward, looked to the future. If it is behind you, let it stay there. She would, after today. "I grew up here" she said backing up her first comment since she realized it may have sounded short. She wasn't normally bothered about offending people, but this man was a hell of a lot bigger than her, she knew when and where to not push your luck.

She shook her head lightly as he mentioned his pack. So he was the alpha? That was interesting, he oozed authority, he suited his role well. She didn't know the protocol when it came to speaking of packs. Was it wise to admit she didn't belong to any? Would he attempt to 'recruit' her? She rather enjoyed having her freedom, she didn't want to tie herself to a group to which she would have to pledge loyalty. Well, it was stupid to lie, she couldn't claim to be part of any other packs, he would easily find out.

The Krine pack? It was a name she was familiar with, rumors told her it was one of the larges and fastest growing packs this side of the land. In human terms, the man before her would be considered potential royalty.
"Carmen Faux" she said giving her name in return and offering out a hand "and with the fear of condemning myself to judgement...I have no pack" she said keeping her voice low. People in this area weren't known for their tolerance of other species.

words: 403

[krael]

“You grew up here?” Drisan said in disgust and admiration. “You actually survived a childhood of this?” He waved a hand at the bar before them.

His respect for the female beside him shot up a notch, he personally would rather face off a thousand marauding Orcs rather than spend another day in that cursed village. He looked around at the bar, listening to the fake laughter and taking in all the artificial smiles.
It wasn’t just that the beer was disgusting and the place itself filthy and run down. It was more than that. It was like the people themselves were dead. Nobody really laughed with joy, nobody really smiled with happiness.

It was as if the live had been burned out of them by generations after generations of hardships, leaving only routines and work habits. To one like Drisan who had grew up in the wild, where you lived life as if every day was your last, it was very unnerving.

“You are truly stronger than I.” Drisan chortled. “A more miserable place I could scarcely come up with.”
As if to emphasize his point a cockroach choose that moment to skitter across the ground at their feet hotly perused by a rat.
Drisan took the slender hand she offered and pressed his lips to the tips of her fingers.
Carmen Faux was her name according to her. If the rough calluses upon her palm spoke truth, then she was not unaccustomed to wielding a weapon either. A warrior then? Interesting.

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance Carmen,” Drisan said releasing her hand.
So she was packless after all. Drisan contemplated this, most Lone Wolves were elderly and had just decided that they were tired of pack live so they left. Carmen wasn’t like that, she was still so young that her scent still smelt faintly human. If she wasn’t a member of a pack she should at least have her Turner here with her.

“Don’t worry,” Drisan said with a wry smile. “We are far from my territory, so there is no need to fear. Let us speak as equals. Why are you alone? Where is your Turner?”
Drisan decided not to go into all the dangers that a young Wolf female could face, not only from other races but especially from her own.
Without a pack to claim her, she was basically up for grabs to any male she came across whether she liked it or not. But if she had been traveling alone for any length of time she probably already knew that.

Words: 425

[carmen]

She gave a little amused grin at the man's mild surprise. A childhood here did seem like torture rather. The place wasn't exactly what you would call 'child friendly'. But then again, she couldn't imagine growing up anywhere else. If she hadn't spent her youth here, she probably wouldn't be as tough as she was today. A hard upbringing produced hard people, those who wouldn't suffer fools and wouldn't be taken for one either.

Of course she very highly doubted she was stronger than him, physically OR willed. Yet she took the compliment with a small nod of thanks. His lips were soft on the back of her hand, which surprised her, she had expected rough and weathered lips. This kind of greeting wasn't the norm in these parts. a hand kiss would hint of a person far more dignified or educated that the ones that graced this rotten building. She returned her hand to her beer and dared herself another sip. She had hoped that she would become accustomed to the taste yet it seemed to get worse with each gulp. Perhaps it would be better if it was ice cold. But that was a luxury Vala didn't provide.

She ran a hand ruffling her hair, a habit of hers when she was nervous or frustrated. In this case the reason for the former. She knew how carefully you had to tread when you spoke to people in these parts. Because Vala lay in the middle of the two feuding 'sides' you had to be sure of what you said and of who you said it to. This of course didn't apply to the situation Vala was in everyday. But a more personal reason. Making the leader of a pack aware you were pack less could be considered an ill move. But she had never been one to hide anything, unless she considered it necessary. But this didn't seem VERY necessary.

Speaking as equals was considered an honor with any pack leader. But one who was the head of such a large pack was even better. It was a nice, if not a little unnerving feeling. But she wasn't going to let her confidence waver, it never did. This could be considered both a good AND a bad point. "I have been turned for around thirty years, which I can accept in your terms is still..with lack of a better word 'fresh'" she said providing quote marks in the air with her fingers. "Although my turner is long gone...I don't even recall his face. A rouge wolf no doubt" they were rare of course. But there were certain wolves who would bite purely for the pleasure of ruining a life.

It was quite a depressing state of affairs really. It would have been nice to have some sort of order, to know what she was getting herself into. But then again that would of meant she'd had a choice in the matter, which wasn't offered. A brief and violent attack, a scared and bleeding young woman and a swish of a tail as the creature ran off into the night. Simple. She still lacked knowledge in the details of this other life she led. "Is it common for the turner to stick around?" she asked curiously a little worried she would come across as naive. Then again, she supposed she probably was.

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Words:560
Notes: Very sorry for my lack of activity. I've had visitors so my computer time was cut short while I played hostess.

[krael]

Drisan felt a wave of pity wash over him as he listened to the girl, he covered it by running a hand over his smooth pate. Drisan loved his life and couldn’t imagine changing it, but at the same time he could partially understand how the girl must be feeling. She had been uprooted from everything that she had ever known and plunged into a world of primordial savagery without any say in the matter and without anyone even explaining the rules. Drisan was more disturbed than ever.

If she had never had a guardian, not even for a short while, how had she survived this long? Who had taught her how to track, how to avoid being tracked, the effects of silver, and the effects of the full moon……you could only self school yourself up to a certain point. Drisan sucked in a breath then shook his head slowly. This was why he didn’t allow Lone Wolves, tyrant some of his people might call him but it was for the best. As long as they were Wolves out of his sphere of power, accidents like what happened to Carmen would be inevitable. Innocent people would always be hurt. Drisan resolved to take up his hunt with much more vigor in the future; he had been too lax lately. Letting too much go by without retribution.

“Yes,” Drisan finally answered her slowly. “Your sire did you a disservice of the worst kind. Its akin to a mother tossing her baby out to the streets as soon as that baby is from the womb.”
Drisan didn’t feel the need to add that he would be keeping his eyes, or rather nose, open for her maker. When he found the bastard he would literally rip him limb from limb for this transgression.
“Its not just the matter of having a teacher,” Drisan continued. “Even though that plays a big role of it. Its also about protection. Vampires who harbor grudges, people who set upon us with torches and pitchforks out of fear, hunters who hunt us for our pelts and for the renown such a kill can bring. But especially other Wolves. At your age and without someone to claim you, you are basically up for grabs. Doubly so because you are a female.”

Usually Drisan would follow up such a statement with a comment like ‘and an unusually beautiful one at that’ and give a cheery wink on top, but he contained himself. The occasion seem to solemn for careless flirting. Drisan absentmindedly ran his hand over the grimy bar, letting the murmur of other conversations wash over them for a moment before continuing.

“Wolves who are turned then left to the mercy of the world usually end up dead very quickly. You really mean to say that you have survived all this time alone? No one has ever taught you anything? You figured out all your powers and weakness by yourself?”
It was quite a feat, if true it was one to be commended and he would definitely be keeping an eye on her after that.
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Words: 516

Tags: Carmen Faux

Notes: Sorry for the long wait. Hurricane completely knocked out the power grid.