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Oh, she was in a foul mood indeed. Nothing came to memory that brought forth the kind of anger that last night's actions did. Or perhaps it would more accurate to claim that it was this morning that gave rise to her ire. He was nowhere to be seen; simply gone. And after a night of sweet whispers and promises of many similar nights to follow.
Did that bastard even realize who he was messing with?! Did he have any clue the plethora of curses she could rain down upon him?! How could she, of all people, have such horrid luck as to come upon a man that would steal a night from her using his wit and charm? A priestess of Beshaba was not supposed to fall upon such tragic events! They were supposed to BRING said events to OTHERS!!
The woman's eyes burned like hellish coals, enough to send the children in her path running, and the wealthy Waterdavian nobility closer to their bodyguards, who each in turn looked more likely to run than draw their swords. Few knew the truth of her devotion, but many knew indeed what this woman was capable of.
Oh, but his time would come. The realization of this practically chisled a wicked smile onto her face which made everyone around her back at least another 10 inches further. In her right hand, she clutched tightly the bastard's flute. Such a sob story he told her, not having the ambition to write any new music for over a year.
He called her a potential muse!
He probably was playing for some overripe waitress no more than a week ago, and likely took advantage of her as well!!
That bastard! That lying, cold-hearted, fiendish bastard!!
That soon-to-be-cursed bastard...
As she looked at the simple, but elegant, wind instrument, she was tempted a thousand times over to destroy it. However, she could not if the curse was to be properly cast. He would know her rage in due time. She just had to find him. He could not be THAT far ahead. His side of the bed was still warm after all.
Her hands clutched together tightly in prayer as she murmured to herself, simply a series of whispers as to not reveal too much to the public. Oh Maid of Misfortune guide me to the point where vengence can be claimed and wicked deed brought upon he who hast mocked one of your devoted.
Not hearing the prayer, many of the people walking along the street that were panicked at first now seemed rather curious. The foul-tempered redhead of poison words was praying? To whom they wondered, drawing in a step closer, quickly retreating as her right eye opened to the sight of he who would know her wrath.
"Aha!!" she yelled, loud enough to send the curious crown running once more.
Her purple fingernail pointed out a man, the target, sitting at a chair of a corner breakfast house, engaged in conversation with what seemed to be a pair of friends. Though pleased to find the soon-doomed man, it also angered her that he felt no need to retreat further than 2 city blocks! Sweet venom of Black Bess did this man anger her with every action he took and ever breath of life he undeservingly enjoyed.
The trio at the table included what appeared to be a young moon elf of light blue-tinted hair and a shining innocent eyes. This poor dear was likely the next intended target of the monster. While she had no intention of saving anyone, there was at least some relief at putting an end to the animal's unsanctioned spreading of Beshaba's misfortune.
To the left of the elven maiden sat a man dressed in what looked to be attire of mostly green and silver, hair colored a dirty blonde and eyes that just barely shone their green light past the wide-brimmed hat he wore. To the right of the elf sat a man dressed in much a similar way as a commoner with clothing mostly consisting of grays and browns with a well-trimmed beard and much of his own expression hidden beneath a raised brown hood bearing a strange design on its top.
"YOU!!" she pointed out to one of the trio "You miserable son of a goat-legged whore!! You thought you could escape, eh?"
The trio looked upon her in confusion. Or more accurately, two of them did. One of the men however hid his features further by turning his eyes downward.
"You thought I would just turn my head the other way.. forgive what you did to me and live on the rest of my life as if nothing was wrong?!! As if no transgressions were committed?!!"
At this point, the whole restaurant was staring at the mad redhead, their attention drawn either by her loud words or her flailing about with what seemed to be a flute, which she seemed to eventually bring attention to, letting the insturment lay upon an outstretched palm as the smile which could make a devil cry returned to her visage.
"Well, today is your unlucky day!! You left this behind and it shall be your undoing! Oh Lady of Misfortune, Black Bess, Lady Doom, Maiden of Misrule! I call upon your power to damn the unworthy soul who lays claim to this instrument."
The actions of the priestess could be considered somewhat theatrical, looking to be a combination of dance routines and obscene hand gestures. Indeed, most within the restaurant thought this to be a performance of such. The priestess did not care. In her mind, she was just recieving the same collection of fearful gazes she had come to adore. Let these fools tremble at the power and curses of the great goddess Beshaba!! She wondered for a moment though as to how to properly curse the bastard. Her mind franctically raced for a proper punishment, desperate as the magic was already in mid-cast.
That's it!! The bastard so loved the taste of women clearly. Let him never taste such again!! Let his right hand be his only companion from here on! Perfect!
"Let that which tastes sweetest to you be forever beyond your grasp!! The Black Bess has spoken!!"
Chuckling with evil delight, she dropped the flute upon the ground, turned and scampered off down the streets she came. The trio on the corner table remained dumbfounded for a moment before looking to the flute.
"Fenton?..." asked the man in green. "Is that my flute? What was that woman doing with it?"
The man on the other side of the table did not answer right away.
"Fenton?!"
"What? What?... some women really like the artsy types, you know." the man of gray and brown gave his interpretation of an innocent smile, which did little to convince his breakfast guests.
After what felt like an eternity of silence and angry stares at the hooded man, the elven maiden spoke. "So, heading back to Sundren tomorrow then Osclow?"
"Yes."
"I have a surprise for you..." the elven lass said with a playful smile, producing a wine bottle of white-tinted glass. It read 'Winter Wine' on the bottle, a hin-made ice-wine which laid claim to being the absolute drink of choice for the man in the wide-brimmed hat, as was well demonstrated by the way his eyes lit up and the easy forgetfulness of his companion's shameful actions. "You have to promise me though you will not open it til you get back home, and you also have to promise me that you will say hello to your wife Annie for me."
"That is a promise I can keep quite easily my dear." Osclow replied happily.
--------------------------------------
Four weeks later...
"No!!! Damnation!!.." the bard cursed as he looked to the pile of glass and spilled liquid upon the wooden floor of his home. How in the hells did his grip just suddenly loosen like that? And dear gods, why did it have to be with his favorite alcohol? Winter Wine was not cheap and seemingly becoming more difficult to obtain with every passing day. As tragic and odd as it was, this was just a temporary setback. He had some coin to spare, certainly on just one more bottle.
He could always get more later...
Did that bastard even realize who he was messing with?! Did he have any clue the plethora of curses she could rain down upon him?! How could she, of all people, have such horrid luck as to come upon a man that would steal a night from her using his wit and charm? A priestess of Beshaba was not supposed to fall upon such tragic events! They were supposed to BRING said events to OTHERS!!
The woman's eyes burned like hellish coals, enough to send the children in her path running, and the wealthy Waterdavian nobility closer to their bodyguards, who each in turn looked more likely to run than draw their swords. Few knew the truth of her devotion, but many knew indeed what this woman was capable of.
Oh, but his time would come. The realization of this practically chisled a wicked smile onto her face which made everyone around her back at least another 10 inches further. In her right hand, she clutched tightly the bastard's flute. Such a sob story he told her, not having the ambition to write any new music for over a year.
He called her a potential muse!
He probably was playing for some overripe waitress no more than a week ago, and likely took advantage of her as well!!
That bastard! That lying, cold-hearted, fiendish bastard!!
That soon-to-be-cursed bastard...
As she looked at the simple, but elegant, wind instrument, she was tempted a thousand times over to destroy it. However, she could not if the curse was to be properly cast. He would know her rage in due time. She just had to find him. He could not be THAT far ahead. His side of the bed was still warm after all.
Her hands clutched together tightly in prayer as she murmured to herself, simply a series of whispers as to not reveal too much to the public. Oh Maid of Misfortune guide me to the point where vengence can be claimed and wicked deed brought upon he who hast mocked one of your devoted.
Not hearing the prayer, many of the people walking along the street that were panicked at first now seemed rather curious. The foul-tempered redhead of poison words was praying? To whom they wondered, drawing in a step closer, quickly retreating as her right eye opened to the sight of he who would know her wrath.
"Aha!!" she yelled, loud enough to send the curious crown running once more.
Her purple fingernail pointed out a man, the target, sitting at a chair of a corner breakfast house, engaged in conversation with what seemed to be a pair of friends. Though pleased to find the soon-doomed man, it also angered her that he felt no need to retreat further than 2 city blocks! Sweet venom of Black Bess did this man anger her with every action he took and ever breath of life he undeservingly enjoyed.
The trio at the table included what appeared to be a young moon elf of light blue-tinted hair and a shining innocent eyes. This poor dear was likely the next intended target of the monster. While she had no intention of saving anyone, there was at least some relief at putting an end to the animal's unsanctioned spreading of Beshaba's misfortune.
To the left of the elven maiden sat a man dressed in what looked to be attire of mostly green and silver, hair colored a dirty blonde and eyes that just barely shone their green light past the wide-brimmed hat he wore. To the right of the elf sat a man dressed in much a similar way as a commoner with clothing mostly consisting of grays and browns with a well-trimmed beard and much of his own expression hidden beneath a raised brown hood bearing a strange design on its top.
"YOU!!" she pointed out to one of the trio "You miserable son of a goat-legged whore!! You thought you could escape, eh?"
The trio looked upon her in confusion. Or more accurately, two of them did. One of the men however hid his features further by turning his eyes downward.
"You thought I would just turn my head the other way.. forgive what you did to me and live on the rest of my life as if nothing was wrong?!! As if no transgressions were committed?!!"
At this point, the whole restaurant was staring at the mad redhead, their attention drawn either by her loud words or her flailing about with what seemed to be a flute, which she seemed to eventually bring attention to, letting the insturment lay upon an outstretched palm as the smile which could make a devil cry returned to her visage.
"Well, today is your unlucky day!! You left this behind and it shall be your undoing! Oh Lady of Misfortune, Black Bess, Lady Doom, Maiden of Misrule! I call upon your power to damn the unworthy soul who lays claim to this instrument."
The actions of the priestess could be considered somewhat theatrical, looking to be a combination of dance routines and obscene hand gestures. Indeed, most within the restaurant thought this to be a performance of such. The priestess did not care. In her mind, she was just recieving the same collection of fearful gazes she had come to adore. Let these fools tremble at the power and curses of the great goddess Beshaba!! She wondered for a moment though as to how to properly curse the bastard. Her mind franctically raced for a proper punishment, desperate as the magic was already in mid-cast.
That's it!! The bastard so loved the taste of women clearly. Let him never taste such again!! Let his right hand be his only companion from here on! Perfect!
"Let that which tastes sweetest to you be forever beyond your grasp!! The Black Bess has spoken!!"
Chuckling with evil delight, she dropped the flute upon the ground, turned and scampered off down the streets she came. The trio on the corner table remained dumbfounded for a moment before looking to the flute.
"Fenton?..." asked the man in green. "Is that my flute? What was that woman doing with it?"
The man on the other side of the table did not answer right away.
"Fenton?!"
"What? What?... some women really like the artsy types, you know." the man of gray and brown gave his interpretation of an innocent smile, which did little to convince his breakfast guests.
After what felt like an eternity of silence and angry stares at the hooded man, the elven maiden spoke. "So, heading back to Sundren tomorrow then Osclow?"
"Yes."
"I have a surprise for you..." the elven lass said with a playful smile, producing a wine bottle of white-tinted glass. It read 'Winter Wine' on the bottle, a hin-made ice-wine which laid claim to being the absolute drink of choice for the man in the wide-brimmed hat, as was well demonstrated by the way his eyes lit up and the easy forgetfulness of his companion's shameful actions. "You have to promise me though you will not open it til you get back home, and you also have to promise me that you will say hello to your wife Annie for me."
"That is a promise I can keep quite easily my dear." Osclow replied happily.
--------------------------------------
Four weeks later...
"No!!! Damnation!!.." the bard cursed as he looked to the pile of glass and spilled liquid upon the wooden floor of his home. How in the hells did his grip just suddenly loosen like that? And dear gods, why did it have to be with his favorite alcohol? Winter Wine was not cheap and seemingly becoming more difficult to obtain with every passing day. As tragic and odd as it was, this was just a temporary setback. He had some coin to spare, certainly on just one more bottle.
He could always get more later...
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