Tome of the Sorceress.   Posted by Guildmaster.Group: 0
 GM, 26 posts
Sun 14 Sep 2008
at 02:03
Tome of the Sorceress
This thread belongs to Lucinda

Fire and light. Death and darkness. Just like flipping a switch, magic comes naturally for the Sorceress known as Lucinda Blancoeur. With her luminous blue-violet gaze, aristocratic features and cherry red lips, Lucinda's magic is not only of the arcane, but also of a charismatic charm that can trap hearts in a spell of love and heartbreak. But how did she come to be a wielder of magic and a practitioner of the arcane? Perhaps with a flick from her magical finger, the Sorceress can tell us...
Lucinda Blancoeur
 player, 11 posts
 Sorceress in Distress
Tue 16 Sep 2008
at 18:16
On Her Own
I am a spectacle! Lucie swallowed her shame. What must they think of me? The witch from the stocks. . . Chagrined by the unseemly show that she was providing, Lucie cast slanted glances at the many passers-by who gave her wide berth as they hurried to hearth and home and the end of the day. She offered a brave smile to anyone who would meet her eye.

“Come along if you please, Esmeralda,” the frustrated maid sighed exasperatedly. With mighty effort, and fuming all the while, Lucie tugged on the horse’s bridle until the leather reins were pulled taut. “We cannot halt just yet, no matter how frightened you are,” she pleaded. Defeated, Lucie quietly cursed the stubborn mount for refusing to budge, and for the moment the weary girl gave up the fight.

On guard for the stranger whom the dwarf had promised would be her salvation, Lucie’s curious gaze swept the wide street crossing, taking everything to heart. For a ten-count she took her ease nearby the great statue that dominated the square. “The Duke of Aberhaven. . .an important man,” she murmured tipping her chin to gaze up at the stony countenance. Smiling as though she kept a secret, Lucie shielded her glance with her hand and studied the handsome, marble face, pale as gold in the shimmering lamplight. Could he be the one?

All that the she had anticipated when the Inquisitor of the North had set her free had proven a pale shadow of the true city. To Lucie’s innocent eyes The City of Twilight was teeming with life and adventure so much so that she could taste it. And as soon as she caught her breath, she intended to have it all. For the first time, Lucie was hopeful that she would see her task done for anything might happen here. Anything!

But dark was falling, and in want of a place to lay her head for the night, Lucie was more anxious than she let on.  Taking up the bridle once more, Lucie put her mouth to the frightened creature’s ear. “We are strangers in a strange place,” she murmured casting calm for both their sakes. Laying a sympathetic hand to Esmeralda’s withers, Lucie crooned a gentling tune to the white mare, easing the animal’s fright while she cast a wary eye to make certain that the precious cargo and saddle bags, which were everything in the world that Lucie owned, was secured safe and sound.

With the thought in her head that she would seek out the greatest man in Aberhaven and win him to her cause, when and if Esmeralda finally would comply, a determined Lucie took up the lead strap and continued on her way. The narrow cobblestone street rising from the waterfront was increasingly steep and curled as they ascended the hill, so that beauty and beast each found the footwork difficult.

But then in the distance, beyond a row of shops that were closing for the night, Lucie spied where she would be. A large wooden sign outlined in brass with the blazing image of a crimson bird rising from flames depicted in its center swung heavily from an iron bracket sprouting from a stone wall. At last she had come to the Red Phoenix Inn.

Casting a spell to safeguard Esmeralda and her possessions, Lucinda Blanceour pushed with a slender hand against the inn’s weathered door.  For a heartbeat she stood framed like an apparition in a halo of lamplight, until the heavy oak closed behind her.

Even in the gloom Lucie was something to see. Hair the color of copper and honey fell in heavy waves below her shoulders, held back from her face by a crimson kerchief that was tied with a knot at the nape of her neck. She was dressed in a dark-green woolen kirtle tucked up over a creamy underskirt. The fitted, long-sleeved, golden-brown bodice was nearly the color of Lucie's burnished hair but tight, like a garment that she had outgrown. Her ankles were bare and she wore a pair of neat leather slippers.

Newly free from the stock, and both eager and dismayed from the sights and sounds of the city, what Lucie needed most was a night’s respite from the harrying day and a bit of supper to ease the rumblings of her belly. But the snatches of conversation that she had overheard in the street and the dire pronouncements hammered to pillar and post made the enchantress wary and set her instincts on high alert. With a tender pat that was a warning for Petie who was hidden in her pocket, Lucie resolved to keep her secrets to herself for as long as she could, until she was certain it was safe to make known who and what she was.

Sweeping the taproom with a curious glance, Lucie saw enough to be disappointed. The lighting was low in the musty old inn, and, where the oil lamps hung suspended from chain link, grimy halos stained the peeling plastered walls. The odor of rancid lard permeated the air adding a sour smell to the harsh look of the place. The tables and chairs were broken and splintered and it was a small wonder that some still stood. Here and there within the shadowy place, merchants, and those less honorable, sat and dealt out their dark dealings with whispered voices and glaring eyes.

Witch that she was, as was her wont, Lucie canted her chin and twitched her small, straight nose, sniffing the air for a hint of Magick. At her feet, startling her, a black cat hissed and then possessively curled its silken tail about Lucie’s bare ankle, sending a wanton shiver up her leg. “What do you want, pretty?” Lucie crooned; her lilting speech was soft like a purr. Sapphire eyes locked on amber, until Lucie dragged her gaze away. There was something evil and unsettling glimmering within the cat’s almond shaped eyes that raised the fine hairs on the nape of Lucie’s neck, and set the maid on her guard.

This message was last edited by the player at 23:05, Tue 16 Sept 2008.