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Post by Amelia Royce on Oct 17, 2012 20:48:20 GMT -5
"Let-let her go!!" A voice called out, as Arania guardsmen came bounding into the trees, swords and spears ready.
Frances sighed and stood to face them, a calm look on his face. "Arania, my dear, tell your guards to spare themselves the hassle of dying."
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Post by Arania Stark on Oct 17, 2012 20:55:31 GMT -5
It took them long enough. Her mouth was filling with blood now, thick and hot and tasting of iron. She opened her mouth, sure she looked a fright with so much blood on her lips and in her teeth and... "Spare..." she croaked, her voice not sounding like her own. "...hassle..." She had to swallow, then, feeling repulsed by the taste of her blood.
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Post by Amelia Royce on Oct 17, 2012 21:06:02 GMT -5
The front most guard lost his head then and jabbed at Francis with his spear. The Dornishman simply side stepped and jabbed up, shoving the dagger in the man's throat before grabbing his spear.
"Oh come, they said, oh come to the fair," He sang as the three men rounded on him.
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Post by Arania Stark on Oct 17, 2012 21:18:49 GMT -5
There was nothing she could do. It took all her effort to move her tongue, to purse her lips and spit the blood onto the leaves, leaving a sticky red trail down the side of her face. She shuddered. What would he do when he finished her teeth? Would he go for her eyes after all? She imagined herself, her pale skin and three gaping red holes where her eyes and mouth once were...
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Post by The Forgotten God on Oct 17, 2012 21:24:08 GMT -5
At his casual disposal of the first man, the other guard is shocked, both at the treatment of his lady, and the man's apparently sublime talent at killing. His hands shake so badly he drops his spear, then he runs away screaming for help.
A moment later, from the other direction, the sounds of a man playing a badly out of tune fiddle can heard. His voice is even worse than his violin.
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Post by Amelia Royce on Oct 17, 2012 21:25:40 GMT -5
Frances cocks his head, a mild frown appearing on his lips. He turns to face the fiddle player, his gaze calm and controlled.
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Post by The Forgotten God on Oct 17, 2012 21:34:16 GMT -5
The fiddle player is another few seconds in appearing, sounding more and more irritating as he walks. He is an inch or two shorter than Frances, solid and of average build, and on his back is a sword that is nearly as large as he is. He stops about ten paces from Sand and the girl and the corpse. He continues playing. Worse...he continues singing.
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Post by Amelia Royce on Oct 17, 2012 21:35:44 GMT -5
Frances studies the man for a moment before leaning the spear he had gained against a tree. He kneels down and places his dagger in Arania's mouth again.
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Post by The Forgotten God on Oct 17, 2012 21:39:07 GMT -5
As he kneels the playing stops. "Frances Sand! So nice to see you again! I see you've graduated from killing prostitutes and little girls, to killing noble-women. I can bet Lord Bryce will be thrilled to hear of that." The fiddle is carefully placed on the ground, and with a low sound the sword comes off the back. "My grandfather Rickon always said you have to put a mad dog down."
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Post by Arania Stark on Oct 17, 2012 21:39:30 GMT -5
Arania's eyes flicked from the strange fiddler to Frances' dagger. She moaned as he put it in her mouth again, wishing she could scream properly.
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Post by Amelia Royce on Oct 17, 2012 21:41:06 GMT -5
"That old man still lives?" Frances asked, leaving the dagger in Arania's mouth before rising again. "He is ill surely, and weak. Best he play the dog that needs be put down." He grabbed his spear and shrugged his shoulder.
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Post by The Forgotten God on Oct 17, 2012 21:45:48 GMT -5
"Well, he is old, but he has better things to do than bugger me, so I suppose I'll take him over your 'father'. I hope his daughter escaped his attentions; although she isn't near as pretty as you to him I imagine." The sound of a man dying off in the distance is heard. "I'm no Goldlander, Sand; you can leave now and I won't chase you."
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Post by Arania Stark on Oct 17, 2012 21:47:42 GMT -5
Arania tryed to push the dagger out of her mouth with her tongue, but only succeeding in cutting it on the sharp edge. Bother. More blood.
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Post by Amelia Royce on Oct 17, 2012 21:47:51 GMT -5
"I suppose you see yourself as some hero from the tales," Frances said, chortling. "No, not truly. You just want to fuck the girl. Go right ahead; she can't move."
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Post by The Forgotten God on Oct 17, 2012 21:53:18 GMT -5
"It's like you're in my mind, Frances. I would love to save the lady, for true; I wasn't raised to be the Others' little errand boy. Maybe even have some gratitude sex, because why not? But, mostly, well, you killed a girl once. Her name was Elyse." His grin faded. "She was pregnant with my child."
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