Fantasy Dark Tidings (Closed)

[Reid]

Turning her gaze, the short red haired woman strapped the clip onto her hip tightly then straightened herself out. Giving the man next to her a scrutinizing glare, Phoebe patted the monstrous brown beast in front of her, "It won't kick?" That was probably the fourth time she asked. He sighed, exasperated and nodded. So, she entrusted him with helping her up. She wiggled uncomfortably, hauling and dragging her body into an upright sitting position. The leathers she wore squeaked in protest. Phoebe slipped her feet into the stirrups and grabbed onto the reins.

The man had to yank at the front harness quickly, because the beast already began to paw at the ground nervously.
"Are you sure about this?" He questioned.

Phoebe chewed her lip and nodded, "Yes, Harold. If anything, this must be done. He is dying and well, we need the others to keep watch over him. I am one person, I'll be able to travel fast."

Harold shook his head, unconvinced, "This is folly. Let his Holiness pass. His spirit lives within his chosen."

Phoebe frowned, kicking the horse's flanks. She yelped as it relates forward. She pulled the reins back and tried again. The beast started at a trot. After several seconds, she braced herself again then kicked, forcing the horse into a gallop. The road was bumpy and dangerous here, obviously not a popular path for the populace at large. Phoebe's people preferred to keep to themselves, and so, this isolation caused a unique sort of culture to develop. No one knew when or where He came from, the one who called himself as only the Raven. When asked why he chose such a name for himself, he simply smiled one of those secret smiles of his and mumbled, "They have tried many a time to bring death upon me. I haven't let them."

He later preformed feats of great miracles, protecting them from harm (only harm that they did not understand, not the mundane) and there were whispers that his blood was the ultimate healing substance. By the time Phoebe was born, the Raven was a god among them. Up until now, he was rarely seen. Yet, several weeks ago, he came stumbling into the village, feverish and almost delirious.

Phoebe spurred the horse on, grunting with effort. She hoped to reach the place they called a "City", a large, loud, and dirty place full of buildings taller than anything she had ever seen before. Where people live practically on top of each other. The thought of it made her shudder, but the sheer size of such a place might mean that at least someone knew what might save the Raven.

-------------------

She arrived by the next day, after getting lost a few times. She had to sell her horse in exchange for the common currency and using this, she rented a room in a small inn. From the moment she arrived, Phoebe clutched her head and groaned. This place was so loud! Brick monstrous structures puffed out smoke and the cobblestone streets were drenched in the stench of piss and stale sweat. The clanging and screams from those places Phoebe learned were called "factories" was the worst of all.

She slid into the seat in the inn, a dark and dirty establishment, the only one she could afford. How was she to even begin to search in this.... This mess?

 

[RojoTiger]

I have a question before I contradict your story. I’m guessing this predates the common automobile and it sounds like either London or some industrialized city in North America, I don’t want to mess up what you are setting up but I have an idea for a character so can you give me some guidelines? Rough date and geographic location.

 

[Reid]

I have a question before I contradict your story. I’m guessing this predates the common automobile and it sounds like either London or some industrialized city in North America, I don’t want to mess up what you are setting up but I have an idea for a character so can you give me some guidelines? Rough date and geographic location.

Early 20th century I was thinking.
And yes, north america. I kinda tried to keep it as open ended as I could, so you can go any which way you'd like for your character.

 

[RojoTiger]

How about 1918? Prohibition started in 1920. New York or some port town would have to have a river or open ocean for commerce and Shipping goods...

A rather dapper middle aged man (at that time) enters the inn Caughing up soot belching forth from the laybor pains of the Industrial Age. The man had the look and gate of a dandy. In his company a stoic and humorless brute carried an obscene amount of “baggage” for lack of a better word, personal effects of various shapes and sizes along with a pair of steamer trunks as well as more orthodox luggage...

“two rooms Sonny boy, regardless of age. One for me in the strictest sense of the word as well as some infernal pit to cast this common miscreant here into for the night. Please forgive him he’s the offspring of a gypsy she wolf and a half polish Scotsmen. I’d put him in chains but it would only enrage and provoke him.”

he then mutters the next words through a handkerchief, the hulk behind him easily twice his size takes the verbal abuse in stride but not good humor.

‘I’m a physician, druggist, undertaker when the need arises and naturalist. I’ve business to attend too, I’ll mind mine so long as you mind yours”

“Call me captain Francis Monaghan the right and honorable 4th earl of Kilmorey, Royal Navy officer and Anglo Irish peer, also Viscount of Newcastle until otherwise relieved of his majesty king George the V...

Then his mad emerald eyes glaze over. He removes his hat revealing salt and pepper grey hair.

“Now... I’ve been out to sea for sometime...”

The good doctor breaks into a solemn Celtic song of old that trails off into a silent mutter and manic glare as he places spectacles on the bridge of his freckled nose amd rose y cheeks.

“I’m from Northern Ireland, I’m Protestant... our distillers are Protestant, as are our children as well as any well behaved dog. they say there’s two kinds of whiskey but that’s a farce, the Popes piss hardly counts...”

I’ll find a suitable table and you can procure a bottle and two glasses before directing the mongrel to a suitable suite.

Then he took a seat and began packing his pipe, a Black Irish guest on American soil leisurely looking around the dark inn as he poured a drink and began a low utterance of a drinking song.

 

[Reid]

[No problem!]

Phoebe was in the process of massaging her sore, battered temples when the little bell on the door chimed. Most of the conversations around the inn became quiet as the two strange men strode in. The young woman lazily flicked open one blue eye, observing the new arrivals. The poor innkeep could barely keep up. He merely gawked at the man who spoke a mile a minute and blinked.

Phoebe's ears perked up, physician?
That was what the Raven required, wasn't it?

She opened the other eye, gazing across the room, staring rather openly at the one who declared himself to be a man of medicine. The innkeep, who was a rather large, beefy man, finally composed himself and began to describe the various rooms available at the inn. Would he wish for a big room? Perhaps with an extra closet....?

Phoebe wasn't listening. The other patrons returned to their evening of drowning themselves in the local liquor, but her thoughts were solely on just how lucky she was that a medicine man fell right in her lap.

Yet, she figured that waiting would be the best course of action. Clearly he had just arrived from some far off place, he was probably exhausted, and in no mood to even hear what she had to say. Plus, would an individual of the sciences be capable of knowing what was wrong with a being that her people believed to be a god?

Phoebe chewed her nails, indicision plastered across her features.

 

[RojoTiger]

“I’ll take the presidential suite...”

Raises his glass and voice.

“Have ye heard of Irish despair ladie...? There’s no known cure...?

Captain Francis Monaghan raised his right brow and crooked smile with a tall glass of brown spirits.

“But not for lack o try’n...”

The good doctor throws back his bad medicine and breaks into verse.

“O ye'll tak' the high road, and I'll tak' the low road,
And I'll be in Scotland a'fore ye,
But me and my true love will never meet again,
On the bonnie, bonnie banks o' Loch Lomond.”

“I’ll take either attic or cellar and compensate you well for the inconvenience . I’ll require total and complete privacy. I keep odd hours.”

He took it upon himself to move a lamp to his table, one not being used, the face of the physician was illuminated as he struck a match and saw the woman previously unseen, he tipped his hat and greeted you betraying his true madness and sadness beneath the stone cold face of his demeanor.

“My apologies, would you mind if I make use of this lamp lass?”

 

[Reid]

The inkeep, eager to get as far away as he could from such a peculiar individual, nodded and mumbled a short word of agreement and scurried off. Not before turning to a mousy teenage boy over at the counter and bellowing for him to man said counter in his absence.

By the time the medicine man sat down, Phoebe had already looked away, still deep in her thoughts and in her inner argument from before. Yet, now, she seemed a bit reluctant, considering the doctor appeared to be slightly out of his mind.

The red haired woman turned her gaze upon hearing the heavily accented voice address her. Her eyes became wide. It took her a second to realize what he said and even longer for her to grab the handle of the lamp, reaching out to give it to him. She hesitated.

"You said you're a medicine man?" She blurted.

 

[RojoTiger]

“What’s your ethnicity lass? Are you literate? I mean no offense, I prefer the company of an independent minded woman to the average sheep shagging man.”

“ehy the times I’ve had, yes I’m a practitioner of the medical arts, I’ve recently come from the Australian penal colony.”

“Stopped briefly for a holiday in the Galopagos, I had a distant relation the natorious Patrick Watkins who was marooned on the island in the early 1800’s, a villainous man, advanced in years at that time, he incapacitated sailors with rum one by one and hid them until their ships sailed without them, then he made his wayward voyage to Ecuador... where he himself arrived without his loyal captives... would you believe he’s still alive?”

“ according to the Old Testament Methuselah was the longest living man, advanced in many years past a natural life span. I’ve seen many a strange and unholy things in my day, I believe in God because if I didn’t I couldn’t possibly hate him... I suppose that makes me a bad Christian... ehy? But I know a thing or two about preservation of life, they question is... is it worth the price?”

 

[RojoTiger]

Takes a drink. “I suppose I’ll be going to hell...”

 

[Reid]

The only words that Phoebe quite understood out of that whole jumble was 'god' and literate. There were other gods? She tried to conceal much of her confusion by answering the questions she did understand. Setting her hands on the table, Phoebe took in a long, deep breath, searching for the words she needed, "I can read, if that is what you are asking. However, I am not a native to this...." She gestured, "City." That was alright, wasn't it? Everything was going okay so far.

Sitting back in her seat, Phoebe again paused in order to look for the right words. Everything depended on if she was able to convinced this man, this slightly out of his mind man, that coming with her to help His Holiness was something that he could do. If she failed.... The thought made her shiver. Failure was not an option, "Yes, well, in my village, there is a man--" Calling the Raven a simple 'man' felt almost blasphemous to even utter, "He is somewhat important to my people. There is something wrong with him. We don't know what. My father can pay you. Whatever you want, but I have to make sure you can do this."

Phoebe resisted the urge to laugh. How in the name of all things holy was she supposed to do that? What could she possibly say or do that would get this medicine man--a doctor to understand the severity of the situation?
"Because, this man, he's quite special, you see. He is very old and has protected my people from harm time and time again." She winced. Again, with the bordering on blasphemous statements. She had never seen the Raven herself, but the persons who have described him as a tall, lithe youthful individual with hair as long as a woman's. It was all very confusing, how could he be older? That was a question that nagged at her sometimes, but he didn't need to know that.

Turning to face him again, she finished off with, "It isn't far. Maybe a few days ride from here by horse, although, I feel bad for asking, considering it appears that you've just arrived from a long trip."

 

[RojoTiger]

“Can you explain his condition?” Yes I will be of service, however I have no horse with which to ride. My manservant will aid you in provisioning us for the trip... your people you say, of what persuasion are these people you speak of...?

 

[Reid]

Phoebe resisted the urge to jump up and hug the living daylights out of him. Instead, she smiled and leaned forward. At his question over the Raven's condition, she frowned, trying to conjure up in her mind what others had said. In the meanwhile, she raised her hand and ordered a glass of water, unsure about some of the other drinks she saw. The innkeeper's son returned not too long after. She thanked him and took a delicate sip, glancing at the physician over the clear glass, "He's.... Feverish. Others say hallucinating, barely able to stand on his own..."

Setting the glass down, Phoebe folded her fingers together and tilted her head, "That's what I've been told, anyway. Not everyone is allowed to see him..." She grimaced, ashamed that she could not provide much in the way of information, "Persuasion...?" She questioned, narrowing her eyes in confusion.

 

[RojoTiger]

“What is your heritage, your family, people, kinfolk?”

 

[Reid]

This time, the red haired woman grabbed the glass again and chugged. She was trying to stall because she had no idea what to say. Glancing around the inn, she reached the end of the glass and had to put it down. It wasn't that she didn't want to tell him, she just didn't know what to tell him. Her people didn't often mingle with anybody. He wouldn't understand that.
So, Phoebe settled for, "Around... Here." And a helpless shrug

 

[RojoTiger]

“Young lady, I’m a very good judge of character. I can tell you are nervous, I happen to have something to remedy your anxieties...” he produced a small brown Bottle... “now why don’t you relax and tell me what you know, so that I may tell you what I can do for you, I see you are in pain, take two tea spoons of that. Until I have more information I’m afraid I can’t help you. I’ve been all over the world, I’ve met diverse people most couldn’t even fathom. Now tell me about yours.”

 

[Reid]

Phoebe raised an eyebrow and her eyes trailed downwards, staring into the contents of the brown bottle. She then turned to stare at him, she ordered a refill for her glass of water just to have something to do and of course, to stall for a bit longer. She set the glass down again and said, "But I need to bring a doctor to the village," Her tone was needy, like a child who wasn't going to get what she wanted, "It's just that we don't have a name for ourselves," She shrugged and sighed exasperated, "We don't go out of our space much. Keeping to ourselves. Why do we need some Grand, universal name? Like.... Like..." She glanced around, spotting a sign outside of another building through the window of her seat, "America?" She said it more like a question.

Taking in a breath, she tried to calm herself down. She wasn't going to get anywhere by screaming at him.
"My name is Phoebe," That was a name, right?
"My father's name is Michael. The man who is ill.... He...." She leaned forward, lowering her voice, "He's not exactly a man although he looks like one."

 

[RojoTiger]

Sorry I’ve been busy and lifes not awesome. Sry.