~Aor, the First True Apostle
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A Ranger's Tale
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Remaining seated calmly along the side of a placid lake, Aor’s fairest visage betrayed nothing worthy of note. For nothing was there right from the beginning bar a smirk showing subtly his gambit revealed.
"May curtains of the stage be drawn wide open, may a game of chess soon commence."
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The young Causacean's outburst during dinner time trampled underfoot Alestrial's bleeding heart, she could only substitute tears for blood. Not because Guy Cody now resembled far more a stranger to her, but rather her ignorance towards the fact that he had lost everything dear due to Aeranath's murderous whims. Catterm Leen was already dead, so was Pallister Scholes far earlier on. She tried prying the truth from the sandy blond, he repaid it forward via a blind lash laced with venom's sting.
Please don't tell me every Cinha bitch is like you.
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"You did what?" gasped an incredulous Lukas Brun as Guy drained yet another shot of whisky.
"Yeah, you heard me, Bruno. I called her a Cinha bitch," snapped the half-drunk lad, his only dependant friend seized by the collar, "You better not tell Uncle Parky this. I promise you’ll regret it."
"Yeah, yeah, I get your meaning, Guy Cody. In truth, I even know you're drunk," sighed the brunette bartender as he forced Guy’s iron grip away, "But seriously, what you're gonna do next? The fella you're out to bump off has been bumped off."
"And do you know who's the busybody doing the job?" questioned back Guy.
"Sadly, no. But then again, everyone within this vicinity knows who Melbo Fairweather is…" spat Lukas distastefully, “As a thick lazy dick, he do enjoy slapping women for fun and Alestrial wasn't an exception."
The sandy blond kept his silence, the androgynous brunette took this to be a cue, “Still, the only good scoundrel is a dead scoundrel. You should have heard his boasts on killing a dying wolf pup. At least dickhead has been demanding to croak like a frog."
"Hey, Bruno," said Guy, his visage abruptly taking on an unpleasant grin, "What's all that retarded cheering about?"
"Please don’t ask yours truly the obvious," gnashed Lukas, his middle finger erected towards the rabble’s direction, "It's called morons versus some piss drunk girl."
"I don't remember little children capable of fucking girls twice their age, Bruno."
"Spare me your bullshit please, Guy. You know how I tend to talk."
"Like a boss," smirked Guy wryly, his thumb jerked towards a rusty metal pole nearby, "Hey, can I borrow that thing of steel over there?"
"Go ahead, but don't get me caught," sighed the pretty lad, "I pity that poor chick though."
"Because we're talking about a group of cunts blessed with manly cocks," replied Guy Cody, his back facing Lukas Brun, "Sucks to get assaulted while your pants are down."
The beautiful youth rubbed his head gently, a mere onlooker could never stop a raging beast. That was a weakness making him same as an apathetic crowd watching such daily fixtures in the Thirteenth Street. But at least he would enjoy playing the onlooker since a cesspit society was never a boring society.
"Oh no you don't! You're not gonna get away with this. Not if I can help it, not by a long shot!"
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One hour before at The Drowning Bear
"Stupid lazy bigot, go get a life!"
"A good thing that black fatso died!" cheered a potbellied Causacean quite obviously balding, his tankard of dark ale raised, "So what if he's a good man? The only good fellow not for us is a dead one or a raped one. Best if it's both!"
"Bastards," muttered Lukas darkly, a raucous round of applause and whistles appreciating yet another bigot's words, "First, it's killing the wolves, and now this."
"You forgot to add in 'idiotic' as that should be the key word," grinned wryly the hooded man, his languid posture retaining a certain ferocity, "Bigotry feeds on dumb conformity, dumb people end up getting dumber."
"That's hardly consoling," quipped Lukas as he took a swig of liquor.
"Ever wondered why so many dumb blokes and bitches are breeding like a kingdom of humping rabbits?"
Lukas choked and spluttered on his drink, the stranger had surely gotten him tongue tied. Lukas was one to make a crass joke or two, but not unto this extent.
"Sadly that's how the world goes," continued the patron as if his convoluted comparison was an absolute truth, "You're part of the perceived minority and for this reason alone, you should know better."
Cynical truth following a seemingly harmless jape, the lanky lad could only gawk like a helpless child with his favourite toy snatched away. Never before had he heard anyone spouting bold statements like this. Before he could devise a way to react, the stranger lowered down his hood.
"One last glass and you won’t see me again soon enough," smiled an Elf with dark complexion and short white hair, "You're a fine gay because normal retards tend to bore me. Nice talking to you, pretty boy and keep all the change."
No sooner Lukas Brun took a payment footed in a small bag of polished gems, the seat abruptly went empty. He witnessed not what happened next, he only witnessed chaotic shouts and shrieking.
There goes my... oh shit! He killed Melbo!
Melbo Fairweather was more than ten paces away, Melbo Fairweather accepted a bloodied sword wedging his throat apart. Brandy poured from his killer's hold into a gaping maw, silence brought forth spoken proof through the wild wolf’s fangs.
"You bastard," drawled the warrior, "A cheap man's drink ransomed by a cheap man's blood. Enjoy it while six feet underground."
He then offered a shrug to Lukas' direction, his mocking words accompanying the ongoing mayhem.
Stupid lazy bigot, go get a life...
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"Melbo Fairweather? Surely you don't expect a certified killer to keep a hitlist..."
Whitened fists clenching in reply, Suaris Louie could only tremble in frustrated anger. If not for this daily job worth a mere two thousand copper, he would have gladly throttled that indifferent knave before him. Or risk getting jobless in doing so. His boss suspected a hired hit, his better reasoning fell onto deaf ears.
Sucky interrogation room... someone should just complain about the lack in ventilation. Old hen better tell me some good news on Daisy's availability.
Putting his griping behind his back, he remembered every lurid detail on how the act was carried out. Yet what made this out to be an utter nightmare was how he reacted after the murderous deed. Sitting back while maintaining a smug silence tantamount to suicide, he was lucky everyone else was content being a thumb twiddling coward.
And sipping brandy like how I wish to do so in front of Daisy. I fucking envy that black bastard...
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"I told him about that bloke he offed," sighed Suaris as his superior browsed the damning report.
"That Melbo Fairweather's a bloody bigot?"
Suaris detested the inevitable rushing towards him like a rabid hound.
"Yeah. And he just laughed."
Upon his subordinate's reply, Kenny Kormeck could only bulge his eyes in disbelief as reality finally grabbed him by the scruff of his neck.
"Scary damned thing..."
"Yeah I know, boss. My words are factual without error..."
"Okay, this is fucking stressful. Just ask that old hen whether Daisy is game enough for two cocks instead of one."
O'Most Holy Quintet, what have I done to deserve such a boss?
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Draum Tyres could hardly convince himself. Here before him was a fellow inmate humming a merry tune as if all’s right with the world. The bulky Causacean now turned scrawny was falsely accused of murder, the victim being a respectable philanthropist. The victim was a Sudhlit and him a Causacean, that's all the local Justica wanted. A respectable victim deserved only a rightful trial and a rightful justice served.
Rightful my holy ass...
Draum was just an everyday civilian earning an honest keep, the Watch chose to arrest him instead. No real suspects were found, a massive load of bollocks ensued thus. A heated quarrel between Komar Sihn and an unknown Tamurian lass armed was seen, the sole witness reliable also of Sudhlit blood stepped forward.
Testimony bounced 'cuz she's a whore and me her client. The old hens should just declare how much their girls earn per person.
Despite a bitter trail of emotions, it was an irony to see him getting used to the stinking cell within weeks. Although the murderer was possibly a Tamurian, he saw no reason to hate his other cellmate. Hazel green eyes deprived of life was bestowed a momentary spark as this newcomer minded not such a first. Fiddling with a red coin pilfered, his dark mate suddenly looked up intently.
"How long can you still live, scabbing face? Starting from now."
"One should tell his name before asking questions. It's called basic courtesy, Tamurian."
"Does Aeranath sounds Tamurian to you?"
"No. You got me here. Name's Draum Tyres."
A guffawing bout erupted between the duo, angry threats rang out from beyond the bars. As their laughter swiftly died down, Draum discovered a certain affinity with Aeranath. This so-called "Tamurian" was no craven bastard, he manned up against an accusation rightfully levelled. Chances were that both would be executed at the same time, but at least Draum had seen the measure of a real man. Not that denying any charges would help though.
"You seem calm for a bloke content to be a moron's bitch," said the Elf armed with a farcical laugh.
"Because I took the rap like a whore," smiled Draum in spite of a fate irreversible, “You imply it so, no?”
"You’re indeed blessed with iron balls. What a shame you'll die before me by gut feeling's guess," sighed Aeranath, "You should have a go in being a Ranger because I'm one."
"You're shitting me," laughed Draum Tyres.
"Provided you've got the proper requirements," smirked the Ranger.
“Nice meeting a fellow man blessed with balls of steel then, Aeranath."
With such a greeting exchanged under such a bridge of gloom, the duo bumped each other's fist. Aeranath felt much at home in a cell fit for rats, this was better than having sex with some Daisy harlot hours ago. As the True Apostle looked up at the lunar sky, he mouthed one final advice before a couple of guards garbed in telling black hauled Draum Tyres to face the public gallows.
"Unto life's very end, there are only two paths to go. Either with a smile or that expression most priceless..."
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Evident bruises and cuts vanishing without a trace, Guy Cody’s sapphire orbs drank in the sight before him. Exotic grandeur strongly unfamiliar complimented a certain somebody before seen, he could easily hazard an accurate guess. Both were naked, he was covered in a scarlet quilt. The white haired beauty before his wary stare merely gifted a seductive smirk, her frontal nudity laying bare on a leather couch.
Danger blaring its horn loud and clear, Guy nevertheless was unable to resist Sarel Aphros' graceful strides. Shuddering at her erotic touch, the sandy blond only saw his own apparent lack as attempts to gather any garments available hit a dead end. The crimson eyed temptress wrapped a strong gentle hold around Guy’s sturdy chest, her breasts fair and fully rounded pressing firmly against his muscular back. With loins finally caving in for a split second's worth, rallied fortitude failed to prise away deception's grasp.
Don't worry about them. Onlookers and rapists alike have all been taken care of.
His parched lips became a prisoner of her peach pink lips.
And the victim as well because of that fool in lead.
He tasted her warm moist tongue akin to liquor most intoxicating.
Victor Blam has paid in full his petty due if it makes you feel better.
He relished the ecstasy of groping and sucking her breasts.
Together with his entire family as well. So what is your answer unto this favour lavished, boy?
Guy Cody could only remain silently numb, the Grand Damsel of the Holy Quintet Church had surely netted a catch highly prized.
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Witnesses to hunger most unsightly continuing its course, every servant of House Eliaden could only hide barely a common sense of disgust. Louthes Eliaden had declared him to be an honoured guest, dissent was not an option. If their master judged the trouble of bribery as more valuable than gold and priceless gems, then a hearty meal consisting of roasted lamb shank and stove baked bread should be nothing. Even their much beloved Maistress adopted since birth consented to such a despicable act, her silence verily seen as approval. Blind faith in nobility was a necessity to survive, House Eliaden was no exception.
"Aeranath," smiled an innocent Alestrial, "Is it alright for me to call..."
Before the Cinha beauty could even try breaking the ice, the Ranger seized her delicate neck with crushing force. A snarl telling of fury and a story telling of denial, Alestrial's blurring gaze discovered a flickering pain. After untold silence of mutual eye contact where the sole force reining in the Home Guards' wrath being orders commanded from their lord, Aeranath released his gravy stained grip.
"Louthes, you better shut your daughter up more often if you don't want to see any horny man taking over this job."
And Aeranath hence resumed feasting after those words.
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Only images of him ploughing that thrice damned seductress forcefully greeted his eyes, any reason behind the folly was only down to his crotch. Heavy perspiration and heavier breathing invaded his inner world, the lion was now reduced to a golden cat. Guy knew futility when he sees one, the sandy blond cursed that white haired bitch.
"You're the finest man I've ever had. Accept my apologies for calling you a boy."
Guy Cody hated Sarel Aphros, he loathed her words. He railed against whoever the ones ruling the heavens, he worded vulgarities in his heart. A promise forged when he was twelve never returning as deserved rest, sweetest innocence became a poisoned chalice. Guy Cody was no longer Guy Cody, Guy Cody ended up being somebody else. Maniacal laughter echoing from Aeranath mere weeks past rang true in his mortal ears, a dirge sung for brave men buried under a fiery grave created his greatest fear.
That monstrous fucker... I'm that monstrous fucker.
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"Milady, it’s confirmed," whispered a masked servant girl appearing out of the air, "Guy Cody has accepted your proposal through his decision."
"Good. You may take your leave, Gail," dismissed Sarel, a sharp flick from her wrist not of contemptuous intent. Sipping her white wine while loosely robed in silken red, she understood Guy Cody's intent.
Gae Buidhe and Gae Dearg, the Gold and the Crimson. Yes, the two which are truly one, the one stirring the beast in every man.
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"A beautiful nightingale's song," applauded Aeranath, his wintry blue eyes staying on Alestrial's dark brown orbs, "Tell me, my fair lady. Why care for those turning their backs on you?"
"Because I care," whispered Alestrial, her gaze prying itself away from the sharpest stare, "Because I do not hanker."
"Allow me to give you some advice here," offered Aeranath, his deeply gruff tone devoid of malice, "Everyone will be betrayed one way or another, but only once with that very knife called self."
Silence permeating under the nightly pavilion, Alestrial Eliaden detected a frigid soul hidden from all. Perhaps it's merely for minutes or mayhap even an hour's span, but the daughter of House Eliaden entertained not any pointless question as she registered only one single thought.
He is not a saint, he is merely a sinner. A sinner focused and a sinner crushed.
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Background notes:
Old hen: Derogatory term used for brothel owners (who incidentally are women).
Gae Buidhe and Gae Dearg are the actual names of Diarmuid Ua Duibhne's two spears.
From the Fenian Cycle.
A/N: Props to anyone who can discern where Aeranath's quote on bigotry is inspired from.
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