Echo of the Past
Traitor
Posts: 0
|
Post by Deleted on Jan 28, 2018 13:24:04 GMT -5
The gentle laugh that leaves Karrii's lips is an awkward one, her gaze flickering to the male on the floor. She knows how well Grim can hold his liquor, and prays he was simply drunker than he appeared to be outwardly. Even as her beer is upturned onto the male's face, an expression crosses over her countenance of disappointment and mourning for the undrunk beverage.
Her footfalls are near silent as she follows the Lady, picking her way across the fallen Grim with the grace of an animal struggling not to step on leaves and twigs. She keeps her face angled to the ground as she follows in Kat's wake, pulling up to the bar on the opposite side of the Demon hunter, her gaze firmly locked on the bartender's face. Deft hands pull the linen ice bag to her eye, and she winces in response to its bite.
She swears Kat has a soft spot for young girls, and she offers the barmaid a gentle smile as she claims the mug of ale in her other hand. Kat's resounding SLAP of her palm on wood illicits a reaction not only from the barmaid, but from Karrii herself who feels her shoulders twitch and jar at the sudden loud noise.
"Here, my lady." she states quickly, lifting the cup to her lips and taking a heavy drag. It goes down smoothly, but isn't too terribly strong. Perfect for the cool night they were about to subject themselves to.
"Um- What about him?" she questions, gesturing to the man on the floor. It'd be a shame to abandon him, but if Kat truly wanted, Karrii is in no position to argue, particularly when the demon hunter begins to speak.
His voice brings waves of discomfort and anxiety across her skin, and had she a third hand, Karrii would have dragged Kat away. But Kat is her own woman and can make her own grown-up decisions, and besides, it would be a poor show of faith if Karrii didn't let her handle it herself. She chooses to say nothing, but simply watch, occasionally bringing her mug upwards to sip.
|
|
|
Post by ۞ KAT ۞ AKA Red Viper on Jan 29, 2018 11:14:43 GMT -5
When Karrii asked about Grim she didn't even afford him a glance. "Tha f*cker wanted ta test me, he lost. Don't know why he be tits up on tha floor, i wasn't trying ta knock tha f*cker out." picking up her mug of ale she took a drink and made a face. To Kat it was like water. She pushed it over to Karri, "This be yers too. As fer him...he can lie there. He shoulda just got the f*ckin ice." There was a casual shrug before Fellen spoke up when her eyes fell upon him.
“I think you broke your man-toy,” he chortled with an almost teasing quality laced into the rancor that even speaking common elicited from the elf.
Kat snorted loudly, "He aint me f*ckin man-toy. Just part of me gang. " her eyes wash appreciatively over the alien creature before her, somethings were familiar yet so very very different. "Tha Cheshire Cats."
While Grimun may not be her toy, the half-smile she wore on her lips as she regarded the demon hunter expressed partial interest in what -he- might be like to play with. The Alliance didn't seem half bad right now. She had always had a burn on for Illidan, and now here was a smaller version of the famous demon hunter.
The woman could almost feel Karrii's discomfort. Turning at the waist- keeping her hips poised more toward Fellen, Kat turned a bit to look over Karrii and frowned, "Woman, just stop. When ye be in a bar, f*ckin keep yer chest out, chin up and eyes alert. None of this... Mouse sh*t here. Walk like ye look like... like..." a sly smile pulled her lips apart and sparkled her eyes, "This." A hand reached up and gestured to all of Fellen. "Walk like no one can f*ckin touch ye. Yer so f*ckin coiled up a f*ckin gnome could trip over ye." Her eyes narrowed and voice lowered to a dangerous purr, still audible likely to Fellen, "i taught ye how to swim. Take me advice now er next time i see ye slinkin about anywhere i will teach ye proper what i explained."
"Now then," Fellen gets her full attention for another moment. "i would love to stand here all night and think about all tha different ways i could get to know ye, but business is callin me elsewhere. i be Kat, Leader of the Cheshire Cats. " she reached out a hand to trail a finger down the center of his chest* wanting a small preview what his skin felt like, "i am sure we shall cross paths again. Maybe next time it won't be so... public eh?"
______
((* Fellen feel free to amend my post if he would not have allowed her to touch him. ))
|
|
|
Post by Feljäger on Jan 29, 2018 21:48:01 GMT -5
The Mouse obviously didn’t much care for his presence.
‘Good girl,’ he mused to himself as he ignored her in favor of the more dynamic of the pair of females. Fellen was under no delusions about what he was, what he did, or how sane individuals felt about both those aspects of the Illidari. Those that were drawn to him had an unhealthy fascination with danger and evil. He was evil, through and through, to the dark morass of rage and malice that was his heart… and that was long before he drank the blood of a Terrorguard. To scent that and still be fascinated was proof that his nature was not unique nor exclusive to an elf. However his was an evil that was focused. Illidan was the lens that collected and directed his foul light.
When the smoke cleared, and a fallen titan lay vanquished, and the Burning Legion had been put to the edge of a glaive to the last mewling imp, then the world would belong to those like Mouse. For before that time Fellen would seek to cleave off the cancer of the Fel from the hearts and minds of every living Azerothian. Those that distrusted his kind would inherit the world, for they were not the meek, they were the wise. They trusted their instincts as he trusted in his.
However much he privately respected the diminutive human his attention was squarely on the boisterous and blustering bombshell. She announced her “gang” and named them as the Cheshire Cats. He pondered this data and mulled it over several times as she spoke.
A gang? Thieves then or perhaps criminals? That would explain the brute, his questionable behaviors, and the discipline levied against him by the leader of the gang. It would explain the Mouse as well, as she is small, takes to hiding in shadows, and probably has some remarkable skill at infiltration and stealth.
He puzzled on the word ‘cheshire’ for a bit longer. He had never heard it before and he could only gain so much from context. Perhaps it was some kind of human domesticated feline or a larger wild breed native to the East? Given the grinning skull motif of their colors he leaned more to the unknown wild cat option.
"Now then, i would love to stand here all night and think about all tha different ways i could get to know ye, but business is callin me elsewhere. i be Kat, Leader of the Cheshire Cats."
He nodded at her, a slight dip of his horned head again, his face turning a bit more to cast those seething green within green artificial eyes upon her from behind the black rune cloth bandage. Then the woman reached out a hand to trail a finger down the center of his chest. He perked a brow as he started into her face, into her eyes, as she made this motion.
His flesh was covered in what seemed like delicate scales at first glance. To the touch they were also smooth and tightly interlaced against the dermis beneath, at least on the downstroke that was with the lay of the flat finish of the nearly translucent natural armouring.
It was a little known fact that most demons were scaled in such a fashion, and that like reptiles of all kinds they “shed” their skin as they aged and grew. This was more magical than in mundane species, for the demons discarded an entire form and simply regrew a newer, larger form in the Twisting Nether. In such a way were all Fiends simply younger, smaller versions of the elder Doomguards. A demon hunter, if they developed this demonic adaption (as no two demon hunters were cast from the same mold), lost that particular regenerative ability. Thus his brands were burned into the scales and the flesh beneath.
As her fingertip passed the place over his heart she crossed a trinity of interlinked circles. A very simple arcane symbol, the triquetra, or three circles laced into one another in a triangular fashion, with one surmounting two others at the base. A trinity symbol. This scar is old, long since healed, and has been cut and distorted several times by blows one would have to assume was some kind of weapon. His lips peeled up into a strange grin as she touched this symbol eternally seared into his flesh.
"i am sure we shall cross paths again. Maybe next time it won't be so... public eh?"
“Perhaps,” he replied in the common, his tone still seeping disgust at the nature of the language, but his cadance playful and almost promissory. “You bring the branding irons and I’ll bring the restraints.”
He said this with a leering half smile that exposed his fangs to her. He snapped his teeth in the air without making contact at the last, as if he was biting flesh, and then finished off his first cup of mead and set the empty cup that was dwarfed in his clawed hand on the bar behind him. His gaze never leaving her.
|
|
Echo of the Past
Traitor
Posts: 0
|
Post by Deleted on Feb 4, 2018 15:15:51 GMT -5
Karrii has already accepted the booze for herself, and takes another deep draw on the cup, wincing with how freely Kat gives out information. Her eyes nearly pop out of her skull. What? What is she even doing?
Still Karrii says nothing, but lifts the icepack to her eye, pressing the cold into her bruised flesh. Nothing Kat could say in that moment would cause Karrii's shoulders to lift; she lacks the faith in the woman she held momentarily, and gently presses past the lady to glare at the foot of the stairs.
She could go, and abandon Kat here, leaving her in the grips of whatever that thing is, or she could stay, and probably end up more hurt than she'd like to admit. With no beast at her heels, her confidence is shot, and Karrii feels as though she'll have to visit a priest after just existing in the same room to exorcise herself from his very presence.
"Kat?" she questions softly, her voice nearly lost in the din of the crowd.
|
|
|
Post by ۞ KAT ۞ AKA Red Viper on Feb 4, 2018 16:31:51 GMT -5
One of Kat's perfectly arched brows rose as her finger trailed over the flesh. One finger turned into two, then three, and then finally four the further down she went, the digits spreading out over his abdominal muscles appreciatively as a smile spread upon her dark lips. The roar of the bar melted away now that something so important was put in front of her. "How... Reptilian." she murmured under her breath, eyes slightly squinting, sparkling with impish mirth. The woman loved reptiles. Not so much the little useless critters that zip about like scared mice- but the big ones. There had been a point in history where she went about the trouble of collecting every whelp that existed all over every corner of Azeroth, and a little beyond. Then drakes of every color, though that had been more of a battle then simply scooping up their smaller counterparts. The Isle of Giants had been as close to a fun field day as she had had in a long time, especially with the prize she brought back with her. At some point during her inspection, she had drew her bottom lip into her mouth to clamp between her teeth. How much of his body did these scales actually cover? Fingers took on a clawed position, gripping at his belt, a soft hiss slipping by her teeth. Welcome to Azeroth Demon Hunters, she thought grinning. “Perhaps,” Fellen replied in the common, his tone still seeping disgust at the nature of the language, but his cadence playful and almost promissory. “You bring the branding irons and I’ll bring the restraints.”Amber eyes met 'his'. How did he know she liked branding irons? Granted she used them for punishment, even so it made her chuckle to hear it. "That i should be able to do." she countered in a Darnassian purr, watching carefully to see if he spoke it- she really knew so little about this race. That had to be rectified. As he snapped his teeth in the air she never blinked, merely gave him a very wide, toothy grin. "Kat?" It was Mouse's voice. Oh right- she wan't alone. The roar of the bar crashed back into her ears swallowing up her delicious thoughts. She stored them away for... later consideration that night. Releasing Fellen she turned her attention to Karrii with a heavy sigh noting the way the woman was still trying to turtle into herself. "Aye..." sighs, "Aye... " her eyes rolled and became lost behind her eyelids for a moment as she reached out to the young woman to wrap an arm about her shoulders, her hand gripping firmly (2.5). (If she happens to be wearing spaulders Kat would slip her hand under one to reach the shoulder properly.) "Let us go. And Mouse, we really need ta have a discussion." Karrii was positioned toward the door as Kat gave Fellen one more once over before guiding the smaller woman through the crowds toward the door, "When was the last time ye were f*ckin laid fer starters..."
|
|
|
Post by Feljäger on Feb 6, 2018 0:14:35 GMT -5
The chorus of her fingers played their game elegantly down his torso. A solo became a duo, then a trio, and by the time she was across his tightly muscled middle it was a full quartet. Down over several brands, down through the channel between his pectorals and the pierced nipple on the right and the scarred bulb of ruined flesh that is his pinnacle on the left, and finally into the triangle point of denticles that spread out just below his navel and vanished under his belt.
He watched silently, bemused, as she tugged at his belt. Clearly the forest of those tiny but wickedly hooked little nodules, like sharks skin but on a slightly larger scale, went down like some demonic version of hair toward the nethers. He bared his fangs as she might have received the visualization that there were aspects of his demonically altered physiology that were intimately designed for the enjoyment of a sadist and a masochist.
"That i should be able to do." she teased him with words in Darnassian in response to his offer of searing and bound entertainment. Her accent was distinct but her diction was correct and using the more casual wording, so she knew there was a difference between polite Darnassian and personal Darnassian. He pursed his lips softly, jostled his brows in appreciation, and nodded as she was watching to see if he would react.
He wondered if she appreciated the fact she was tempting the demon, that she might as well have gone up to some warlock’s familiar and played her wily game with a Terrorguard or Doomguard. Oh, to be sure, Fellen was a safer option as he would not destroy her outright, but living dangerously was still tempting fate and teasing the limits of the pain that may follow.
She seemed to know what she was asking for. There was a clear hint of recognition in her eyes; that she knew what he really was, what he was capable of, and was curious to see if this was true or just a projection of her extreme and particular carnal desires.
The Mouse brought their teasing to an end. Did the wispy woman realize that the game of temptation was being played both ways? That it was not simply her leader that was encouraging possibilities and offering promises of an excursion into sensation that would make Mouse wretch with the deviations that were on the unspoken table. One did not have to move, or speak, to indulge the most subtle of flirtations. A look and an expression spoke volumes.
Would it have mattered to the Mouse? One had to assume it did not. Her word, singular in verbiage but speaking volumes in tone and subtext, was a sledgehammer to the delicate stone of the dalliance. Shattering the floor upon which Kat and Fellen were dancing and plunging them into the abyss of missed opportunities.
”Aye…”
The temptress sighed and looked at Fellen right before closing and rolling her eyes. That scant and fleeting glance were telling. Kat didn’t like missed opportunities. A hungrier smirk flashed across his face.
”Aye.”
The living paragon of the boisterous female took the wispy girl-child by the shoulder and pressed them both toward the egress.
"Let us go. And Mouse, we really need ta have a discussion."
A final longing glance back. Amber eyes flashing to fel-kissed emeralds before moving on without another look back. If she had looked Fellen was fairly certain she would not be capable of leaving.
"When was the last time ye were f*ckin laid fer starters…”
Fellen sipped at his second cup of mead and snickered to himself.
“You will before she does, Kat, leader of the Cheshire Cats,” he said to himself with a sneer.
From behind him he heard the familiar voice of the barmaid.
“I still think you can’t handle her,” she said in a tone that carried with it a fair bit of uncertainty of the veracity of the statement.
He didn’t look back but he took another drink of the beverage and considered the space the pair of Cat’s had last occupied before rounding the corner to the foyer and the front doorway.
“Do you think she can handle me?” he asked pointedly. Picking up on her uncertainty and capitalizing upon it.
There was a pregnant and uncomfortable pause and then a lower, more certain reply.
“No.”
The demon hunter finished off the mead in a gulp and cast his eyes about the tavern. It was still loud, still a cavalcade of chaos and human activity, but he was getting more looks now. Too many eyes that were focused upon him with a mix of fear and awe.
“Good. Uncertainty in the face of the Fel is the only rational reaction. Kat wants to tempt the demon she will have to answer the hunger born of the twisting nether.”
Leslie Dandred-Pierce considered this but felt just enough courage to challenge the assertion.
“I thought your kind killed demons?”
He was certainly starting to like this waif of a girl. At least she was an amusing animal. As a reward he looked back and his withering gaze cast it’s jade pall across her pale white face.
“Yes. We eat their hearts and drink their blood. How much taint do you think that leaves behind?”
She backed away from him and made certain she had to be somewhere else, anywhere else, to serve another patron. As she dashed off, partially falling over herself and over the boots of her employer, she shuddered visibly. Joachim Brenlow watched her pass, made sure she was not going to leap over the bar and leave him stiffed on still a busy night, and when he was sure she was staying he turned his angry glare to the disruptive demon hunter at his bar.
The Illidari lifted a clawed hand, palm to the barkeep, as a sign of surrender. He knew when he had overstayed a welcome and the human didn’t have to say a word. Fellen didn’t want to hear it. What he came for had been accomplished anyway.
Thus the bane of demon kind lifted himself off the bar and, as he had entered, strode confidently and directly from the Blue Recluse and out into the cold wintery evening.
|
|