#oldrp

@alessafalling, @darlapettaline

“Oh. He’s new.” V pulled the lens away from his eye and scratched another mark in the trunk of the tree. “That makes.” His head rocked side to side as he counted his scratches. “Thirty-three.” The thought of facing so many trolls was exhilarating but it also brewed a nervousness deep within his gut.

“I can do this.” He told himself, not for the first time. He played out the mission in his mind. He was tasked with silencing one Witch Doctor forever. He was on his own volition to how he did it, he just had to get the job done and survive. Then he would be a full fledged member. A lot was riding on this one mission, life or death.

As day turned to night with the setting of the sun, V took the lens and glassed the village several times over. “Nothing new.” He mumbled to himself as he sat high above the ground in his perch. He rested lazily, his feet dangling from the branches as he watched the village. He wasn’t scared of being seen, the foliage was thick enough to cover his body with just enough of a gap for him to see through.

When the sun all but vanished the village came to life with sound and light. The large bonfire in the center roared to life, sending shadows sprawling out in every direction. Smaller fires and torches were lit throughout the village, creating a ring of light that the darkness of the night couldn’t encroach. V glassed the village, watching as the trolls left their humble dwellings and made their way to the center. Most were simple trolls, hunters and gatherers with little interest beyond their village, but a few were not. The others were dressed for war, bones littered their bodies with tiny shrunken heads around their belts. V could see cruel looking weapons in their clutches. Axes with barbed edges and swords that were stained in the gore of a previous kill. They were nothing to laugh at and yet they guarded the Witch Doctor.

Drums set the night into motion, banging out a melodic beat inviting all those around to engage in their primal dance. V scoffed. They looked like buffoons yet they held rhythm fairly well.

Using the distraction V climbed down from his perch, using the branches until he was forced fix his grappling hook into a crook made from a branch and rappel down. He touched the ground without any sign of discovery and pulled the metallic rope tight, giving it a slight twist so that the hooks would retract and the grappling hook fell to the ground, landing with a small thump.

Once his gear was stowed he began the ascent up the small incline towards the village. He moved slowly, hugging the ground as the grass tickled at his face. There had been one watcher on the outskirts of the village but the last time he saw the troll it was looking towards the fire and whatever ritual was taking place.

As he reached the top of the grassy knoll he got a clear view of the village. The fire still raged in the middle with the drumming and now chanting drowning out almost all noise. The sentry was staring into the village, his eyes almost transfixed to whatever was going on. V almost thought he could smell something cooking but he wasn’t sure. Trolls knew little of bathing it seemed to him so who knew what he was smelling.

After a moment passed V rose to a knee as he hunched his shoulders forward. Slow is smooth, smooth is fast. He told himself but his nerves were starting to fray. If the troll simply looked back he would be seen, his lit by the light from the fires. With a deep breath in and out he sprinted down the knoll, his fingers moving deftly as he withdrew a knife from a breast pocket. His ran as fast as he could be silent, his feet landing near perfectly around the stones and other hazards that plagued his course.

The sentry must have seen or heard him, for as V drew close the troll turned to face him. Shock registered on both of their faces but V had momentum and he dropped to his knees, sliding along the ground as he came up to the troll with his dagger leading. The blade plunged deep into the trolls’ abdomen and V rose up to his feet. He let go of the dagger as one hand grabbed the collar of his shirt and the other went for its mouth as it began to yell in shock and pain.

“Shut up.” V growled as he fumbled around the tusks before clamping his hand around his mouth. He pulled the troll into his embrace, keeping one hand upon its mouth while wrapping his legs around its waist. The troll fought him as he regained some of his senses, the pain clearing his mind of the shock, but V’s grip was too tight and the wound too severe. They fought for a few more minutes before finally the troll laid still, its blood pooling upon the ground and staining V’s dark leathers.

He laid still, holding the troll’s lifeless body over his as he listened for any sign of discovery. The yells had seemed to be like thunder to V but the longer he laid there the more he came to a conclusion that they weren’t aware of his presence. Yet.

V crawled out from the body and looked around. He could clearly see the village center and the mass of trolls surrounding it, yet they all seemed transfixed by the fire and none looked his way. The dwellings around him laid dormant, dark as the night beyond the veil of light. He hid the body beneath the closest hut, pulling his knife free from its chest, and slid under with it.

“Slow is smooth, smooth is fast.” He told himself as he eyed the world from beyond the underbelly of the hut. He could have sat up comfortably, one joy of the raised huts, but there was no comfort to be found where he was. He crawled to the far edge of the hut and looked out once more. The sentry watching this side of the village sitting on a barrel looking at her feet. To V she appeared more as a fisher than a guard but that suited him anyways. He timed it, watching her as she watched the dirt between her toes, before rising to a crouch and scurrying across the narrow opening.

Instead of going under the hut he traversed the wooden steps and slipped inside. The sight made him want to laugh for even his modest apartment along the Row had more in it than the hut did. Finding a straw mat, V pulled out a flint and set to work with his dagger. It only took three strikes but the straw eventually caught fire, spreading quickly over the dry wood. He crawled out a window and disappeared beneath another hut before any alarm was raised.

“Come on…” He growled as the trolls ran around panicked. The drumming had long since stopped and the dancing with it. The fire was already leaping between the huts and only a handful of the trolls had managed to grab buckets of water. Yet V cared little about those trolls, his eyes were fixed upon the Witch Doctor and his guard. They had backed away from the fire, retreating towards a darkened path away from the huts that were burning.

Sweat began to trickle down V’s brow when the trolls finally cleared away from the center. He crawled out in a hurry, glancing back just enough to see the hut burning and the thatch roof beginning to sag. Close. He thought as he moved along the huts, dipping in and out from their underbellies until he stepped into the pathway leading to the Witch Doctors abode.

The doctor and his four guards were halfway up the path as V slipped into the forest. He darted swiftly through the trees moving silently as his hand dipped into a pouch, pulling free several smoke bombs. As he stepped onto the path he threw the grenades, immediately drawing the attention of the trolls but that was of little concern. The grenades hit the ground, exploding into a large cloud of smoke that quickly enveloped the trolls. V sprinted down the rest of the path, slipping into the smoke like a ghost as he evaded a random swing of an axe and ducked below the swing of a shield.

The twin katanas upon his back came unsheathed without a sound. He swung with reckless abandon, lashing out at anything that appeared in the smoke. He was greeted with a satisfying grunt of pain and a sudden splash of warmth against his face. “Ha!” He yelled as the blood dripped down his face. Adrenaline was coursing through his body and he felt high on life. His sword lashed again and again, sometimes feeling the bite of flesh others doing nothing more than cutting through the smoke.

A sudden jolt of pain ebbing from his side snapped his mind out of its euphoric state. “Oh.” He grunted, as his hand grasped his side, feeling the warmth spread over his fingers. With one hand, he continued his assault, swinging wildly into the smoke. He could no longer feel his blade connecting with anything, in fact he couldn’t feel much other than a dizziness spreading through his mind.

When the smoke finally cleared, the path was riddled with blood and gore. The Witch Doctor laid upon the ground, arm severed just shy of the elbow and skull split open. It was grisly yet it captivated V all the same. He swayed on his feet as he looked around. The trolls were all dead or dying, some taken out by his own blade but for two unfortunate souls it looked as if they had killed each other.

With a grunt V dropped to a knee beside the Witch Doctor and withdrew a serrated dagger. With several cuts the head came free and he held it up by the hair as he inspected it. His eyes were blank yet seemed to stare at him all the same. The hair was mangy and a putrid odor seemed to surround him. But that could have been the stench of death itself.

Satisfied with his job he tied the head around his belt by the hair and surveyed the surrounding area. The fires had stopped spreading, unable to jump the larger gaps between huts and the trolls were doing what they could to put what remained out. Comfortable that he had been undiscovered by those in the village V turned north and hobbled into the forest, a faint trail of blood following his every step.

I did it. He smiled victoriously yet in his mind darkness creeped, threatening to overcome his consciousness.

aesthetic; gold, grease and gumption; bellamy&iann

the hot tar of the road tore scratches in the leather on the sides of her heels as she sat with knees turned one way on the road, giant map laid out before her, edges billowing in the wind. the highway was dead. acrylic nails traced the red line on the map, stained with the bacon grease still on his fingers that, as he stood against the car, he brushed against his shirt. they were lost. westfalia filled with old torn and crinkled target bags containing mason jars of what looked like dirty boiled eggs in oil and a few candy bars that were melting in the hot summer sunrise. “let’s just break into that diner up there, charge my phone.”

aesthetic; moon, magic and modesty; ruby&aedan

the moon’s fullest self had past, leaving the woman of it’s will returned to herself as she laid on the moss covered bed of the forest. it was easy to feel and be alone after such an occurrence but she wasn’t. the druid male had watched her shift back as steam came from his porcelain cup of tea, the mornings dew clinging to the tree he leaned against. if the werewolf woman needed him than the druid male would find his way to her, their magics and history intertwined. 

…soapberry becomes medieval fantasy…take the throne…

daniel harrison; of house harrison, no claim to royalty. knight of sun’s army.

…soapberry becomes medieval fantasy…take the throne…

bellamy jacqueline chevalier; of house chevalier, disowned. queen of the dead woods, wolf whisperer.

aesthetic; water, wishes and want; elena&danny

his curls dripped with water as he leaned over her, droplets hitting her chest, half in the water and half out. her own hair was a mess, a few strands dangling over her ears while others were scattered over her back and down her shoulders, some even clinging to his own chest of messy wet curls as his large arms held her close to him. it took her a second before her tail split and toes felt the sand give way and move between them, waves crashing around them where they stood, a hearty chuckle making his chest bounce. “don’t leave me stranded, love,” he insisted, arms tightening their grasp as another wave crashed against her back, causing them both to stumble. more laughter falling from each of them.