It's a beautiful thing - Printable Version +- 'Souls IPB Archive (November 2007–October 2012) (https://soulsrpg.com/ipb) +-- Forum: Dead IC (https://soulsrpg.com/ipb/forumdisplay.php?fid=110) +--- Forum: Dead Topics (https://soulsrpg.com/ipb/forumdisplay.php?fid=21) +--- Thread: It's a beautiful thing (/showthread.php?tid=23182) |
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- Swentzle Byström - 12-09-2011 [html] Fore-dated to the 11th derp. (If that's okay with you). Word Count → 600 Irinei was not entirely sure where he was. He'd woken with only a vague memory of where he was, and then he'd actually taken note of where he was, and this was not it. There was a pelt of some kind pulled over him, and a fire burning next to him, with the odd smell of unfamiliar spices drifting in the air around him. Dark blue eyes took in the scene with caution, and he pulled a hand from beneath the blanket, beginning to push himself up, only for his ribs to seize and convulse. He gasped, and dropped back to the hard forest floor, whimpering in pain. "You are quite injured, my friend. We pulled you out from under quite a bit of debris, and it's a wonder you are alive." Swentzle, who'd listened to the whole thing from across the fire, rose and came around the campsite, tucking the injured dog back under the pelt before he could further injure himself. "Where...am I?" The white dog asked, but didn't try to move, as Swentzle now carried the airs of a healer. The wolfdog sat beside his injured patient, shooting a worried glance at the bandaged and splinted leg that lay beneath the furs before he settled again, calming himself. Worry would get him nowhere, and would only invite evil spirits to feast on their minds; it was better to stay calm and sure. He'd had two days to build the mask he wore now, and he refused to let it falter just because his patient seemed fully conscious for the first time since being injured. "You are in my campsite, in an area known as the Dampwoods." He said, because details usually helped calm people down; it had always worked on the Shikoban warriors, and it was no different for the stranger, though he was still tense, as he was with unfamiliar people. Swentzle continued nonetheless. "I brought you here after you were crushed by a collapsing building. I've done everything I can to help you, but you've been unconscious." He folded his arms over his chest, lifting his head and then cocking it to the side so that he studied the stranger out of one eye. "I would like for you to answer some questions, and then you may rest more." Irinei found himself nodding, and relaxing back against the make-shift pillow as he waited for the interrogation. "Who are you? You smell of no pack that I have come across, or I would return you to your people." Irinei closed his eyes and sighed. "My name is Irinei Pajari. I'm a marauder...not from around here." Swentzle nodded. "I am Swentzle Byström. You are free to stay with me for as long as you need, Irinei; I do not turn away the needy." He paused a moment, to think of anything else he'd needed to ask, but Irinei's eyes were drifting shut, so Swentzle simply rose and went to his wagon, bringing out a small bowl and a canteen. He filled the bowl with water, and then crushed herbs for pain between his fingers and left the leafy bits to swirl within the liquid. He gave it a moment to saturate, and then returned to his patient, lifting the white dog's head and holding the bowl to his lips. "Drink this, and rest. I will bandage your wounds again tomorrow." Irinei drank a bit of what was in the bowl, and then relaxed into his bed, falling into a deeper sleep as Swentzle contemplated what he was going to do with the male. Table by Aly, code by the Mentors! <style>.swentzle-fieldsofgold { background-image:url(http://i.imgur.com/kmHKk.png); background-repeat:no-repeat; background-position:bottom center; background-color:#93d7fa; width:500px; margin:0px auto; text-align: left; padding:10px 0px 300px 0px; color:#555555; font-family:georgia, serif; font-size:12px; line-height:18px; border:1px solid #FFFFFF; outline:1px solid #000000;} .swentzle-fieldsofgold b {color:#FFFFFF; } .swentzle-fieldsofgold p { text-indent:40px; padding:5px 15px; margin:0px; } .swentzle-fieldsofgold p.ooc { font-family:arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size:11px; } .swentzle-fieldsofgold .name { font-size:45px; font-family:arial, helvetica, sans-serif; text-transform:uppercase; text-align:right; margin:0px 45px 15px 0px; color:#FFFFFF; text-shadow:#000000 2px 2px 1px; } p.template-credit {text-indent:0px; text-align:center; font-size:10px; font-style:italic; width:425px; text-align:center; margin:0px auto;} .swentzle-fieldsofgold .wordcount {color:#555555; letter-spacing:0px; font-size:11px; font-weight:bold; border-top:1px dotted #8c8c8c; text-align:right; padding:0px 5px; text-transform:uppercase; margin:0px 15px 15px 15px;} p.template-credit {text-indent:0px; text-align:center; font-size:10px; font-style:italic; width:425px; text-align:center; margin:0px auto;} </style> [/html] - Leon Hughes - 12-10-2011 I could've swore Iri said "I'm Iri. I'm a murderer." [html]
- Swentzle Byström - 12-10-2011 [html] LOL no. |D Word Count → 368 Swentzle sighed as he watched his guest settle into an uneasy sleep, resting his head in his hands for a brief moment before he rose and began moving around the campsite. It was still early, only perhaps mid-morning, but he couldn't see much. He rubbed his hands together uneasily, gazing into the fire with a troubled look on his face as Hamza began making a commotion behind him. The bison wasn't hooked up to the cart, but he stood dangerously close to it. Swentzle was quick to soothe his mount, running his hands over his head and murmuring soothing words in the Old Tongue until he'd calmed down. His eyes were still wild, though, and they rolled strangely in his head. Swentzle pet him quietly, frowning even more as he took in how distressed the usually calm buffalo was. It soon became apparent what was frightening him so, as two young wolves came into the campsite across the fire. Swentzle turned his head toward them, his eyebrows raising slightly in surprise as he noticed something...familiar...about the older one. He gazed at them for a long moment, his mouth pulled down curiously, before he moved away from Hamza and around the fire to check on Irinei again. "Salutations, strangers. What brings you to my camp?" His hand hovered over the blonde dog's mouth for a moment to make sure his breath was steady, and then settled on his leg and put light pressure. Irinei whimpered in his sleep, but he didn't wake, which meant the herbs were doing their job. He rose again and turned his attention back to his new guests. He couldn't shake the familiarity of the one who'd spoken, and he crossed his arms and turned his head at a different angle, as though that might help him see better. It didn't; the smoke, wafting in lazy red waves from the fire, obscured his vision, and his eyes were already so poor that it shouldn't have surprised him as much as it did. The incense obscured the scents in the air, as well, and after a moment he had to give up. Wherever he'd seen the man before, it couldn't be terribly important. Table by Aly, code by the Mentors! <style>.swentzle-fieldsofgold { background-image:url(http://i.imgur.com/kmHKk.png); background-repeat:no-repeat; background-position:bottom center; background-color:#93d7fa; width:500px; margin:0px auto; text-align: left; padding:10px 0px 300px 0px; color:#555555; font-family:georgia, serif; font-size:12px; line-height:18px; border:1px solid #FFFFFF; outline:1px solid #000000;} .swentzle-fieldsofgold b {color:#FFFFFF; } .swentzle-fieldsofgold p { text-indent:40px; padding:5px 15px; margin:0px; } .swentzle-fieldsofgold p.ooc { font-family:arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size:11px; } .swentzle-fieldsofgold .name { font-size:45px; font-family:arial, helvetica, sans-serif; text-transform:uppercase; text-align:right; margin:0px 45px 15px 0px; color:#FFFFFF; text-shadow:#000000 2px 2px 1px; } p.template-credit {text-indent:0px; text-align:center; font-size:10px; font-style:italic; width:425px; text-align:center; margin:0px auto;} .swentzle-fieldsofgold .wordcount {color:#555555; letter-spacing:0px; font-size:11px; font-weight:bold; border-top:1px dotted #8c8c8c; text-align:right; padding:0px 5px; text-transform:uppercase; margin:0px 15px 15px 15px;} p.template-credit {text-indent:0px; text-align:center; font-size:10px; font-style:italic; width:425px; text-align:center; margin:0px auto;} </style> [/html] - Leon Hughes - 12-10-2011 [html] http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v28/s ... _timg1.png); background-position: top center; background-repeat: no-repeat;"> </style>
Leon speaks - Swentzle Byström - 12-10-2011 [html] occ here Word Count → 434 Swentzle looked up as the males finally spoke, and his ears lingered over the voice of the younger one, reminded painfully of his daughter. A small smile pulled at his maw, and he moved toward the cart, pulling back the tarps and moving by smell and touch more than sight. "You are in luck," He said, as he pulled out one of his spare blankets--not furs, unfortunately, but wool; just as thick and warm as they could come--as well as a package of dried meat he'd gotten from Antiman. "I recently restocked in Freetown. Mostly herbs, but I do have some things I can spare." He folded the blanket over his arm and moved around the fire, holding that and the dried meat out. "That will last you the next few months, if you cannot find anything else to eat. It is food for travel." He explained, and then returned to his wagon, pulling sacks open and inhaling carefully. Most of them contained herbs; some had spices. He didn't suppose they would like any of those, though. Frowning thoughtfully, he pawed through one of the bags in the far back, and found only some of the things he didn't like to think about--an old doll he'd taken from Shevon's room before he left, his mateship bracelect curled in the bottom of the bag, the headdress he'd once worn at council. Leaving those things alone for another day, he leaned back and brushed his hands off thoughtfully. "I have nothing else that you might be interested in." He said, scratching at his chin, and turned toward the two, pausing to comfort Hamza once more as the bison bellowed unhappily. "But my companion, Fovea, will be returning shortly with breakfast. You're free to join us." He was about to smile again, but it never quite reached his face, as the young pup asked after his patient. Swentzle turned toward him, sighing heavily. "I am not sure what will happen to him. I can only do my best." He folded himself into a sitting position beside the fire, taking the staff he'd left lying there to poke at the logs in the fire. "I pulled him from a pile of rubble, in a city to the south of here. He was virtually crushed; it's a wonder he's alive." Swentzle shook his head, casting the mutt a look out of the corner of his eye. He might once have said it was he who'd saved the dog's life and kept him breathing this long; but nowadays Swentzle knew everything was part of a greater design. Table by Aly, code by the Mentors! <style>.swentzle-fieldsofgold { background-image:url(http://i.imgur.com/kmHKk.png); background-repeat:no-repeat; background-position:bottom center; background-color:#93d7fa; width:500px; margin:0px auto; text-align: left; padding:10px 0px 300px 0px; color:#555555; font-family:georgia, serif; font-size:12px; line-height:18px; border:1px solid #FFFFFF; outline:1px solid #000000;} .swentzle-fieldsofgold b {color:#FFFFFF; } .swentzle-fieldsofgold p { text-indent:40px; padding:5px 15px; margin:0px; } .swentzle-fieldsofgold p.ooc { font-family:arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size:11px; } .swentzle-fieldsofgold .name { font-size:45px; font-family:arial, helvetica, sans-serif; text-transform:uppercase; text-align:right; margin:0px 45px 15px 0px; color:#FFFFFF; text-shadow:#000000 2px 2px 1px; } p.template-credit {text-indent:0px; text-align:center; font-size:10px; font-style:italic; width:425px; text-align:center; margin:0px auto;} .swentzle-fieldsofgold .wordcount {color:#555555; letter-spacing:0px; font-size:11px; font-weight:bold; border-top:1px dotted #8c8c8c; text-align:right; padding:0px 5px; text-transform:uppercase; margin:0px 15px 15px 15px;} p.template-credit {text-indent:0px; text-align:center; font-size:10px; font-style:italic; width:425px; text-align:center; margin:0px auto;} </style> [/html] - Leon Hughes - 12-11-2011 [html] http://i776.photobucket.com/albums/yy46 ... ontab1.png); background-position: top center; background-repeat: no-repeat;"> </style>
Both the boy's ears perked and their expressions grew curious and grateful when the older religious man said they were in luck. They sure as hell were; Leon's expression showed his surprise at the large amount of dried meat and the amazingly awesome wool blanket the man held out for them. "Th-thank you," he managed to get out as he took both things. He automatically draped and wrapped the large, thick wool blanket over Trigger, who grinned and pressed his nose into it happily.
Leon speaks - Swentzle Byström - 12-11-2011 [html] occ here Word Count → 427 Swentzle smiled fondly at their gratitude, and inclined his head to show that it was not unwelcome. When the older one spoke of repayment, however, Swentzle shook his head, holding up a hand as though to wave away the very thought. "There is no need, my friend. I am happy to give aide." The thought would never cross his mind to demand repayment for such things, as it might others; he merely hoped that these young strangers would remember, and--should they come across him, or anyone else, in need--pass on the kindness. That was all he ever hoped for, and it was no different for Trigger and Leon. Brushing his long hair back, he gave a heavy little sigh, and then held his hands out to the fire, finding the weather to be growing colder. As the two shared the bits of dried meat, Fovea slunk up behind them, winding her way through the trees and brushing as close as she dared to the strangers before circling the fire to sit primly at Swentzle's side. He held a hand out for whatever small game she'd caught, but there was nothing; she'd come back empty-handed. His brow furrowed, and he turned to look at her fully, seeing a rather smug look on her face. But then, she always looked smug. "Fovea, quid est hoc?" He asked, his voice stern and scolding. Fovea purred deep in her throat, and circled once, then began walking away, her tail flicking leisurely. Swentzle sighed, running a hand over his eyes, and took up his staff, rising to his feet to follow her. "It seems Fovea has brought down something larger than a hare." Swentzle said, and then paused and added, "At least, I hope that's the case, and not that she's simply gotten lazy." The boys spoke before he could leave, and he paused, offering them another out-of-character smile. "I must leave for a few moments; if you wish to help, truly, you could watch Irinei while I'm gone. We would have to discuss you're staying with me," He added, aimed more toward Leon than Trigger, "As I am considering a journey to a pack in the Halcyon Mountains very shortly. We are unprotected out here, and I cannot defend more than myself." He left the decision up to the boys, though, and gave them a short nod as he grabbed hold of the end of Fovea's tail and began weaving his way through the morning fog. Hopefully toward their breakfast; but you never knew, with Fovea. Table by Aly, code by the Mentors! <style>.swentzle-fieldsofgold { background-image:url(http://i.imgur.com/kmHKk.png); background-repeat:no-repeat; background-position:bottom center; background-color:#93d7fa; width:500px; margin:0px auto; text-align: left; padding:10px 0px 300px 0px; color:#555555; font-family:georgia, serif; font-size:12px; line-height:18px; border:1px solid #FFFFFF; outline:1px solid #000000;} .swentzle-fieldsofgold b {color:#FFFFFF; } .swentzle-fieldsofgold p { text-indent:40px; padding:5px 15px; margin:0px; } .swentzle-fieldsofgold p.ooc { font-family:arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size:11px; } .swentzle-fieldsofgold .name { font-size:45px; font-family:arial, helvetica, sans-serif; text-transform:uppercase; text-align:right; margin:0px 45px 15px 0px; color:#FFFFFF; text-shadow:#000000 2px 2px 1px; } p.template-credit {text-indent:0px; text-align:center; font-size:10px; font-style:italic; width:425px; text-align:center; margin:0px auto;} .swentzle-fieldsofgold .wordcount {color:#555555; letter-spacing:0px; font-size:11px; font-weight:bold; border-top:1px dotted #8c8c8c; text-align:right; padding:0px 5px; text-transform:uppercase; margin:0px 15px 15px 15px;} p.template-credit {text-indent:0px; text-align:center; font-size:10px; font-style:italic; width:425px; text-align:center; margin:0px auto;} </style> [/html] - Leon Hughes - 12-12-2011 [html] http://i776.photobucket.com/albums/yy46 ... ontab1.png); background-position: top center; background-repeat: no-repeat;"> </style>
Still, Leon wanted to make up for the kindness shown to him. Particularly to Swentzle, but this kindness would extend past the both of them; the Hughes man would help anyone needing it from him if he came across anyone in need. Of course, he would've helped them out had Swentzle not been kind himself; Leon wasn't a heartless bastard. It just wasn't often anyone needed or wanted help from him. Soon, that Fovea critter came back without a single thing and the animal's companion said something in a foreign language to the mountain lion. Such a cat was something else the two Hughes had never seen before, despite them living in Arizona, too. They were reclusive creatures, and they'd both heard horror stories about the cats, so when Fovea slinked out from the bush and sat by Swentz, the two brothers tensed and watched the pair uneasily.
Leon speaks - Swentzle Byström - 12-12-2011 [html] occ here Word Count → 407 Swentzle followed Fovea through the Dampwoods to a large field, in which he soon found a deer--a doe, if he wasn't mistaken--lying, dead, on the grass. He nudged it a few times with his staff, just to be sure, and then used the walking stick to lift it a bit, slipping an arm beneath it and lifting it slightly onto his shoulders. It was rather heavy, but not so much so that he could not carry it back to camp; he only needed to stop for a few moments every now and then as he made his way back, the weight of the doe making his shoulders sag. He used the staff to pull himself along, and when he finally reached the clearing where his small campsite was held, he rolled the deer off his shoulders and dropped it beside the fire, straightening and stretching his back with a small series of pops. "She managed to bring down a deer. A very lucky day, indeed." He said, and left it there for a moment to check on Irinei, careful not to trip over Trigger, who lay beside him. "Did he wake?" Swentzle asked the young boy as he lay a hand over the male's mouth and nose, making sure he was still breathing. He would have checked his injuries as well, but the leg was still quite mangled, and he didn't want to give either of the younger men nightmares. He brushed a hand over the furs on the man's chest, instead, pressing down gently, and waiting a moment for a response. There was none; with a satisfied nod, he stood and returned to the fire, going first to the wagon to search for a skinning knife. He would only take a side of the meat, he decided; that would save less work and allow them to eat more quickly. Pulling the bone-handled, stone-bladed knife from a bag, he returned to the deer, and began the work of preparing their breakfast. As he worked, he swiveled an ear toward the older boy, and said, "Will you be accompanying me north, then, my friends? Or shall we be parting ways?" He had other supplies he could spare, if that was so; he was sure they wouldn't mind some herbs of some kind, especially the pain-easing Aloe. And Swentzle wanted to do something more for these boys, even if he didn't quite understand why. Table by Aly, code by the Mentors! <style>.swentzle-fieldsofgold { background-image:url(http://i.imgur.com/kmHKk.png); background-repeat:no-repeat; background-position:bottom center; background-color:#93d7fa; width:500px; margin:0px auto; text-align: left; padding:10px 0px 300px 0px; color:#555555; font-family:georgia, serif; font-size:12px; line-height:18px; border:1px solid #FFFFFF; outline:1px solid #000000;} .swentzle-fieldsofgold b {color:#FFFFFF; } .swentzle-fieldsofgold p { text-indent:40px; padding:5px 15px; margin:0px; } .swentzle-fieldsofgold p.ooc { font-family:arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size:11px; } .swentzle-fieldsofgold .name { font-size:45px; font-family:arial, helvetica, sans-serif; text-transform:uppercase; text-align:right; margin:0px 45px 15px 0px; color:#FFFFFF; text-shadow:#000000 2px 2px 1px; } p.template-credit {text-indent:0px; text-align:center; font-size:10px; font-style:italic; width:425px; text-align:center; margin:0px auto;} .swentzle-fieldsofgold .wordcount {color:#555555; letter-spacing:0px; font-size:11px; font-weight:bold; border-top:1px dotted #8c8c8c; text-align:right; padding:0px 5px; text-transform:uppercase; margin:0px 15px 15px 15px;} p.template-credit {text-indent:0px; text-align:center; font-size:10px; font-style:italic; width:425px; text-align:center; margin:0px auto;} </style> [/html] - Leon Hughes - 12-12-2011 [html] http://i776.photobucket.com/albums/yy46 ... ontab1.png); background-position: top center; background-repeat: no-repeat;"> </style>
The sweet smell of venison reached the boys before their new friend had come back with Fovea's kill; Trigger lifted his head and looked over, his tail automatically wagging at the sight. Leon looked a tad eager himself and he stood up, about to move over to help the older male when he set the carcass down to move over to Iri and check on him. Trigger stayed perfectly still where he was as to not make Swentzle trip over him.
Leon speaks - Swentzle Byström - 12-12-2011 [html] occ here Word Count → 349 Swentzle paused to smile at the younger boy, nodding reassuringly. "He is--or will be--perfectly fine. The herbs I gave him were intended to take his pain away; that he feels nothing is a good sign." He explained as he went about preparing breakfast. Sometimes he liked to simply dig in to a kill, like the animal he was, but life in the Shikoban tribe had been incredibly civilized; they cooked their meat, sometimes with spices, and held great feasts in honor of the spirits. They built houses out of cloth and wood, as the books in the city pictured, and they lived a comfortable life on two legs, not four; it was only natural that he continue to live as such on his own. Once the rib cage was cracked open and the side he'd chosen was pulled out, he set about butchering it carefully, cutting it up into smaller pieces so that it didn't smother the fire. He nodded at Leon's words as he did so, finally setting out three separate racks in front of him. "This is a wise plan. I would have done the same, had my companion not needed dire attention." He slid his gaze to Irinei, frowning sadly. The white dog looked sickly, even in Swentzle's poor vision; there were shadows along his form that the brindle dog took to be the malevolent spirits of sickness, coming to feast while no one was looking. He would have gone and banished them, if he didn't have two other guests to worry about; instead, he passed out the two larger cuts to the boys, shaking his head as he rubbed the spice/incense on his own and tossed it onto the fire. "We will be joining the pack Ichika No Ho-En. It is rumored a peaceful place, and the inhabitants I've met have done nothing to disillusion me." He answered the young man's question, and then began a soft, quiet chant beneath his breath in the Old Tongue, the ritual only rendered somewhat ineffective by the lack of the Awk in his hand. Table by Aly, code by the Mentors! <style>.swentzle-fieldsofgold { background-image:url(http://i.imgur.com/kmHKk.png); background-repeat:no-repeat; background-position:bottom center; background-color:#93d7fa; width:500px; margin:0px auto; text-align: left; padding:10px 0px 300px 0px; color:#555555; font-family:georgia, serif; font-size:12px; line-height:18px; border:1px solid #FFFFFF; outline:1px solid #000000;} .swentzle-fieldsofgold b {color:#FFFFFF; } .swentzle-fieldsofgold p { text-indent:40px; padding:5px 15px; margin:0px; } .swentzle-fieldsofgold p.ooc { font-family:arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size:11px; } .swentzle-fieldsofgold .name { font-size:45px; font-family:arial, helvetica, sans-serif; text-transform:uppercase; text-align:right; margin:0px 45px 15px 0px; color:#FFFFFF; text-shadow:#000000 2px 2px 1px; } p.template-credit {text-indent:0px; text-align:center; font-size:10px; font-style:italic; width:425px; text-align:center; margin:0px auto;} .swentzle-fieldsofgold .wordcount {color:#555555; letter-spacing:0px; font-size:11px; font-weight:bold; border-top:1px dotted #8c8c8c; text-align:right; padding:0px 5px; text-transform:uppercase; margin:0px 15px 15px 15px;} p.template-credit {text-indent:0px; text-align:center; font-size:10px; font-style:italic; width:425px; text-align:center; margin:0px auto;} </style> [/html] - Leon Hughes - 12-12-2011 [html] http://i776.photobucket.com/albums/yy46 ... ontab1.png); background-position: top center; background-repeat: no-repeat;"> </style>
Leon had never met anyone quite as religious as this. In fact, there'd been no religious folk back home at all. They were all... well, not religious. They just lived day by day without thinking of spirits and gods and whatever stuff but Leon and Trigger both weren't dumb enough, nor close-minded enough to discount anyone's religious beliefs or the chance that there might be some things like that out there. They just didn't believe it themselves or think about it, but the two of them were sure thinking about it now. Trigger gave a bit of a relieved sigh and a nod of his head at the answer. Okay, so that's why he didn't react. So that was a good thing!
Leon speaks - Swentzle Byström - 12-12-2011 [html] occ here Word Count → 239 Swentzle paused in his chanting at the question, going over what little information he did have, and then frowned thoughtfully, leaning against his staff and gazing into the fire. "From what I gather, they are non-violent, and do everything that needs to be done in order to uphold those views." Which was no less than what he'd expect, of course; those who intended to do harm--those who did harm--had to be met with the same ferocity that drove them, or they would never learn. Had the raiders not surprised his village, they might have suffered a great punishment at the hands of their leaders, rather than simply being run off; but the fact of the matter was, the Shikobans had other things on their mind at that time. Swentzle shifted to turn his ribs over on the fire, inhaling the sweet, chile-cinnamon scent, and then sighed, taking them off and enjoying his own meal with quiet dignity. After a moment's pause, he continued quietly, staring into space with an odd look about his face. "I was told they were family-oriented. It would be a good place to...raise my daughter." The last he said almost under his breath, and his voice was briefly pained, as he thought about how stupid he had been to abandon them. If only he could see Anzhela and Shevon now; he would have loved to hold his darling girl. Table by Aly, code by the Mentors! <style>.swentzle-fieldsofgold { background-image:url(http://i.imgur.com/kmHKk.png); background-repeat:no-repeat; background-position:bottom center; background-color:#93d7fa; width:500px; margin:0px auto; text-align: left; padding:10px 0px 300px 0px; color:#555555; font-family:georgia, serif; font-size:12px; line-height:18px; border:1px solid #FFFFFF; outline:1px solid #000000;} .swentzle-fieldsofgold b {color:#FFFFFF; } .swentzle-fieldsofgold p { text-indent:40px; padding:5px 15px; margin:0px; } .swentzle-fieldsofgold p.ooc { font-family:arial, helvetica, sans-serif; font-size:11px; } .swentzle-fieldsofgold .name { font-size:45px; font-family:arial, helvetica, sans-serif; text-transform:uppercase; text-align:right; margin:0px 45px 15px 0px; color:#FFFFFF; text-shadow:#000000 2px 2px 1px; } p.template-credit {text-indent:0px; text-align:center; font-size:10px; font-style:italic; width:425px; text-align:center; margin:0px auto;} .swentzle-fieldsofgold .wordcount {color:#555555; letter-spacing:0px; font-size:11px; font-weight:bold; border-top:1px dotted #8c8c8c; text-align:right; padding:0px 5px; text-transform:uppercase; margin:0px 15px 15px 15px;} p.template-credit {text-indent:0px; text-align:center; font-size:10px; font-style:italic; width:425px; text-align:center; margin:0px auto;} </style> [/html] - Leon Hughes - 12-12-2011 [html] http://i776.photobucket.com/albums/yy46 ... ontab1.png); background-position: top center; background-repeat: no-repeat;"> </style>
As Leon and Trigger ate their slice of deer, the two listened to Swentzle's words carefully. He didn't really have much else to say about the pack besides they were extremely peaceful.... it had Leon wondering if they'd even fight to protect their members if they were attacked or if they were purely passive. He'd assume not, since that would open them up for attacks and raids and all kinds of bad shit, and they wouldn't put their members in danger, he'd hope. His mind wandered again, back to the raid, as Swentz's did, and he really, sincerely hoped the man didn't find out he was there. It hadn't been his choice, but he couldn't very well defend it even if he was beaten into submitting to the idea and forced into it. He wouldn't excuse it regardless.
Leon speaks |