+++ I have no true intentions of finishing this, its possibly years old just found it on my computer. I wanted to post it because I liked it, I figured someone should see it instead of leave it for the files. Just a start to a FF I never bothered to complete. I know it has bad grammar and such, review please?
Unfinished Fable Piece
Bloodstone
Chicken Chaser seeks out Reaver to travel to the Spire
"Oh I do hope you can make me look presentable…I believe that last sketch artist had good fun making my nose look so utterly morose…" The carver made no hesitation to give the Bloodstone Port Master a respectable nod and scurry quickly into the backmost room of his mansion while trying to shake his gaze off her back. "I—love it when they run!" he mused, taking a step away from the doorway as two men made their ways in with a large rectangular block of granite. He eyed the swirls in the rock, wondering exactly where the whites would mesh with the grays when it came to his face, and then a charming smile arose on his lips once he realized the consequences the young lady carver would endure if there was even an oddly placed shade of white slashed about his cheek, or perhaps his forehead. "Straight back, hurry now you ignoble curs you make it seem like I have time!" the two men, grimy pirates direct from the ship in which the granite block had just arrived looked his way as he spoke and shied to the opposite side of the rock once they saw the pistol being playfully rolled around in his right hand. If anything the hunk of slate weighed at least a half a ton and was resting on a feeble wooden dolly which was nearly ready to collapse under the weight made hurriedly pushing it through the foyer more difficult then the two pirates at all wished; knowing their lives were surely on the line.
Meanwhile, the sculptor, a generally thin Bowerstone Old Town woman with clothes best suited for a forty year old buried corpse waited in the farthest corner of what she assumed was the study. She looked around in silent marvel at all the luxurious furniture scattered throughout the corners and the miscellaneous items placed atop some of the bookshelves, probably looted from a ship or two. The tired squealing of the dolly wheels became hard to ignore once it came into view in the hallway, she stood poise and tried her best not to tremble when the pirate lord for whom she was hired to sculpt sauntered into the room with lips pulled back in a very alluring and wild grin. "Come on now! Right there—need I repeat myself my finger may just slip…" he ordered, his enthusiastic voice erupting like a gunshot through the high ceiling of the study. "Now you, sweetheart—have you a name?" he looked towards the meager woman with a twisted look about his dashing features, gun held level with his shoulders. The sculptor gripped the frock of her dress a little tighter and struggled to look the renowned bastard in the eyes "Annette, milord…" she answered timidly. The woman was in all ways simple, the Pirate examined; hair pinned up under a bonnet which was coated with coal dust and grime, an ugly shade of brown graced her eyes and her skin almost looked frostbitten and dead in some places on her cheeks and lips. "Annette…" he echoed in a revolted tone emphasizing the T's with a forceful tongue click, Annette could see his tongue move against his teeth making her shudder with a sense of longing. "Well! Carry on then, don't make me stand here all day—but at the same time…don't rush darling—we'll have issues if you rush," he took a step towards a foot stool sitting across from the granite slab and propped his boot atop it and with a swift gesture fixed his already perfect hair. "Annette, now I know I'm so very intoxicating to look at but chop-chop now you daft Old Quarter wench…" He aimed for her head as she stood in sheer terror, her feet didn't seem to want to move from their spot and her eyes couldn't rip themselves away from his emerald stare. "I apologize sir, I'll take as little time as I can!" she finally managed right before he fully tightened his finger to the trigger, he relaxed. She took her needed tools from the bag she brought with her and to her disliking, looked back at him for several moments trying to soak in his features and gesture. "If I don't hear the sound of rock chipping away I'm going to spontaneously combust…" he sang with impatient playfulness.
Annette hesitated and to keep herself from being murdered she began to blindly work out his figure into the stone.
The waterfront of Port Bloodstone silenced for the first time in possibly decades as an unfamiliar figure passed through town smelling of the murky waters of Wraithsmarsh. The usual pack of drunks normally arguing over the game master's rules even quieted themselves to look up as the stranger passed the pub and headed up the stairs towards the furniture shop, a rugged slender Labrador at her side. The woman stopped at the final step of the stairs and turned on her heel to find several sets of eyes watching her like a bunch of hawks; she narrowed her own and cleared her throat.
"Reaver." She said simply and immediately every person be them drunk or not pointed a finger up to a high roof peeking over the houses rising up the hilly streets of Bloodstone. "Thank you…" she gave a dull smile, turned and disappeared behind the pub with faithful companion in tow. For a few seconds the people hovering around the pub stared up at where the stranger once stood eyes wide until finally a buxom wigged prostitute raised her smoker's voice for all to hear "You see 'er? Built like a brick shit 'ouse she was, she been rummaging through the marshes, mus be ah sure kinda woman to survive that!"
She came to the street leading up to a large building on a hill and cocked her head; it was an odd looking home, shaped almost like the bow of a ship except with a better sense of imagination and the glazed oak shined in the sun. She could see a man guarding the front door as she neared the steps and he craned his neck to stare at her like she was a plague of some kind "Oy lass…" he called, she placed her hands on her hips and shook her hair out of her eyes "I have business with him!" she lied.
"Aye? Well—if you have business with Reaver then go on in…he's in the back."
She raised her eyebrows in surprise at how quickly she was able to bypass the dimwitted guard; he even opened the door for her. "Mutts gotta stay out though!" he knelt and gave her companion's collar a tug, who growled in response to the gesture but she shushed him. She walked straight through the foyer not bothering to admire its elegance, once she'd stepped through the door she saw who she assumed was him standing in an odd way in the room at the back of the house through the door under the stairs. "Excuse me!" she yelled sternly, her voice echoing through the whole mansion, he looked in the direction of the door startled, his hand instinctively tightening on his pistol "What the fuck is that?" he muttered to himself his voice muffled by the clacking of the sculptor working on his replica. "I have to speak to you…," the female voice sounded purely business, the owner came through the studies door arms folded. Her presence brought a riveting smile to his face, "My. My…" he uttered with eyes going up and down her figure, "It's very seldom visitors make it to my little coastal paradise—and for that matter…ones as positively striking as you." He used the barrel of his pistol to point up and down her body, she took a few steps forward while explaining bluntly "I need your assistance with something vast, and I need it now, I can only assume your Reaver."
"That I am, the one and only—for many years to come!—so tell me, what is it your so blatantly requesting my, of all the miscreants in this world, help for?" He shot a look towards the sculptor who had momentarily stopped to eavesdrop and he didn't have to tell her a thing; his expression read "Keep fucking working!" perfectly, and she did. Reaver stepped off the stool and approached the sudden uninvited guest "By the way…how did you manage to just waltz into my home?" The woman scoffed and pointed a thumb back at the door "Your door guard let me right in, I'd half expected you to hire a little smarter being a Pirate king and all…"
Reaver gave her a coy smile, he sidestepped to her left to view the feeble amount of his guards shoulder and head he could see and held his pistol up. Much to the woman's surprise, he managed to infiltrate the doorway and shoot the man square in the back of the head. "Such a pity when they run dull!" he said blandly, the carver stifled a squeal as the gun went off but kept her trembling hands working away at what she hoped would be his shoulder. "I and some others need your help" the woman solemnly began, ignoring the fact the pirate shot an innocent man; Albion is Albion, life is life. Reaver spun back to her and held a finger up to his own lips to shush her, she furrowed her brow "What?" she asked annoyed and he smiled again "What do I have the honor of calling you? It seems so unjust for us not to be properly acquainted!"
The woman rolled her hazy blue eyes and brushed a thick bouncy curl from her face "Chaser."
"Chaser? My what an enticing name…Chaser…" he turned back around and walked away from her repeating her name as if it was that fascinating, letting it roll of his tongue and she watched his back wondering, like any woman would, what kind of body he had under that armor and cape. "So—you need my help, well, I don't offer my assistance to just anyone! Unless it has to do with pleasure—that's another story."
"Oh, no, it's not—At all."
Chaser brushed the same glob of curls out of her eyes, he couldn't believe how curly her hair was, and dyed such an exotic array of colors it was as if it were shining like un-mined gold. Dark brown in full but lines of solid yellow beamed throughout the vast amount of spirals that hung down to her breasts which, to his disliking, where covered completely with a cropped jacket. "Are you in?" she rung her dainty tanned hands anxiously and he wondered if she was nervous or irritated. Reaver ceased to put his pistol away even when he walked back to her and came within biting distance of her face. Briefly, he examined every inch of her face. Her skin was dark from her constantly being in the sun during her travels and her eyes were bright, and she had finely shaped lips that seemed pail. Nevertheless, she was quite attractive and very curious.
"I heard you were a good shot but I didn't hear you were so weird..." she commented, backing up enough to view his reaction with pure bliss. She did not care about anything except the mission and this man was being far too fucking patient for her liking. Reaver paused a moment to consider shooting her for that snide criticism, nobody had ever called him weird before from what he recalled.
In fact, he was a bit unsure of how to take it.
He raised his left eyebrow and giggled softly through a toothy grin, "You're funny my dear girl, however opinions have never been taken lightly in my abode I'm afraid. Now I'll give you something I-well...actually I've never given anyone who has annoyed me options, but I'll make an exception with you."
Now he was standing near the pedestal, preparing to get back atop it. His gun hovered in her direction, "You get a chance to leave or else I end you."
Chaser felt her cheeks become hot at the sight of a pistol in her face; her eyes fell to slits as she took a step forward to retort, however, she was cut off by a warning shot, which whizzed across the part in her hair. She felt the breeze wipe across the top of her head and instantly ducked a little with astonishment.
"Ah-ah-ah-there's no need for anymore discussion, you are intruding and I will kill you...if you don't fuck off right now!"
Her reaction was not expected; she repeated 'fuck off' through her gritted teeth hotly and then changed it around to "fuck off my ass!" Quicker then Reaver had ever seen besides himself, she pulled her own pistol and held it at his face. His face!
This whore was asking for it.
He did not respond with a gunshot like what Annette was prepared for; hiding herself behind the slab of granite with her ears covered. Interest fully taken by her gun, an exact duplicate of his own, Reaver stepped around the room in a half circle and was interested in how Chaser parroted his moves ready to shoot just as much as he was.
Her face was serious but there was a fear in there somewhere...women can't help it, after all.
"Where does a girl like you get a gun like that?" he asked curiously, his voice was calm because to him he had nothing to worry about.
To him he was the only person with skill in the room. Chaser was a little disappointed at his arrogance, but found it a laughable fact. She smiled wryly and answered while staring at him down the barrel of her gun, "I earned it. But it would seem we are two of a kind..." she quickly flicked her pistol at his own referring to its identicalness.
"I know all about you, so don't think for a second you have me outsmarted."
Reaver could not help but drop his gun slightly at her statement; it changed his mind entirely about this uninvited guest. She was serious, why else would she know all about him? Why else would she hold a gun to his face that was the last fucking one he needed to complete his collection?
Her smile grew a bit at one side, as she taunted, "Thought this gun would catch your eye, it's like you're looking on the other side of your own isn't it?"
"Look at you; I must say you are certainly the little beast aren't you? You've most definitely caught my eye darling so I'll listen to what you have to say, briefly though, elongated conversations have tendencies to bore me."
Without much hesitation, Reaver dropped his gun and walked away from the standoff. Chaser, amazed, dropped her hand as well. She became slightly cautious when he rounded the massive block of stone in the corner and disappeared from view. There was a gunshot and the only thing Chaser could see from where she stood was a whole lot of blood and a woman's body to go with it.
She watched the corpse settle on the carpet, the blood was bright on the carpet.
'that's what you get.' He muttered coolly, moving towards a chair.
She folded her arms and walked up a bit closer to where he had sat himself down by the fire with a chalice. "Your time started when I said I'd listen," he said flatly, rolling the gun around in his other hand.
Chaser rolled her eyes and thought up the short version to the possible end of Albion.
"I need you to come with me to Bower Lake, right now. If you don't you and this pile of driftwood dumped in this foul smelling hell-hole that you call a port will be gone."
He went over her words in his head for a short time and after he took a sip of wine, he questioned, "Why do you need me to go to Bower Lake with you? I have no business there as far as I'm concerned in fact I rather hate it there!" His tone was what pissed her off the most, so bored, so uncaring.
She held her breath for a moment and glared at him, then when he finally looked up from admiring his cup Chaser gripped the arms of his chair, leaned in and spoke directly to his face, "You're a fucking Hero, and you know it. And you know something...Reaver? I need fucking Heroes. So if you don't come with me, you're going to die, and that gun wont save you from it. Only I will."
He had sunk back in his chair a little, finding himself extremely puzzled by what she was saying and doing. In truth, he almost believed her; her tone was serious and so was her determination to get him to follow her around like some sort of mutt. Reaver began to stand up and as he did so he pushed his hand into her chest and shoved her backwards, replying "Only you will? What the hell do you think you could possibly do to save me? Why, you don't even know me!-oh, wait...apparently you do! How incredibly weird."
"Ugh this is pointless!" Chaser snapped as she paced the room quickly, grabbing at her curls consistently with anxiousness. She turned and pointed at him, her expression said that this was her final attempt, "Listen to me...OK? Lucien is going to destroy this world if you don't come with me and I know a man like you wouldn't want to cease to exist so just fucking come with me to Bower Lake!"
Reaver laughed and set his chalice down on the table, he tossed his gun between his hands leisurely, "Lucien hmm? I thought he'd be too old to move by now but I guess not, well good for him!-however much to my disliking, you are right...I do not."
He ran a hand through his hair and shook his head, "alright, but don't think I'm doing you any favors. This is purely for myself!"
"I really don't care who or what you do it for I just need you to come with me!" She spun around, taking a deep breath that she so badly needed and began to head for the door.
"I didn't really want to do this either...but I didn't have a choice." she mumbled to herself.