Forums » Fantasy Roleplay » A Princess's Plight (1x1)

The tavern was not a safe place for a girl like Pythus. The men around her kept eying her as she nibbled on the last meal she had on her tab. She needed to find someone to take care of her before she starved to death.

Her short blond hair was clean and styled, a bow holding it at her long, pointed ears. Her face was lightly freckled, but otherwise her skin was smooth and blemish free. She wore a brown dress, but it was fine, thick fabric that was expertly tailored. Dark brown gloves made out of a beautiful leather that would last for years. She wore a cape around her shoulders that was made of a soft fabric that was treated so the outside was waterproof. Her boots were sturdy, but fine, with gold accents on the brown leather.

She was a short young woman with a thin frame and the limp-wristed weakness of a royal. In her hand she held a small, beautiful crest that showed her lineage and would offer her proof as to the promise. She had signs posted everywhere to tell what she had in mind and the promise of gold when she was returned to her parents.

Patrons came and went through the tavern, just as they always had, to eat and to drink--and perhaps to do a little bit more. No one probably would have batted an eye this day when a large, tall brute filled up the doorway. There was nothing to mark as interesting or spectacular at first, but the curiosity of a few patrons near the interest was piqued when a naked hand reached up to doff the man's wide-brimmed traveling hat.

It was hard to say what could be noticed first about him. There were so many strange features to take note of. Some got an eyeful of his skin, inhumanly grey as a storm cloud. Others were drawn to the pointed ears that appeared to follow the sweeping crest of his snowy hair and beard. A couple of people had caught a glimpse of claws on the hand that had doffed the hat. A once-broken, crooked nose with a silvery scar running along it, and a small frown that was probably permanent, pulled the entire look together: a brooding elf that refused to follow his breeding's standards.

And he was starting to make his way straight for Pythas.

Heavy leather boots worn from travel thudded against the wooden floor as he walked with careful purpose. Excluding the claws and his muscular build, it wasn't easy to tell what sort of weaponry the dark elf might've had on his person, due to the old long coat covering a good portion of his entire being. Fortunately, he didn't look poised to strike. Quite the opposite, in fact, as he approached the woman sticking out like a sore thumb amongst the other patrons and stood a few feet back.

"Lady Kennyrvirrea'brar?" the elf announced himself in an appropriately deep, rumbling baritone, easily sliding right over what he assumed was an elven family name.

Pythas' face went pale when she saw Johann. He was not a person she would normally associate with. Well, it wasn't a surprise that the elf wouldn't talk to people like him, and even the others in the tavern. They lacked the grace of her people and were vulgar and rude.

Her eyes searched his face, flicking repeatedly to the scar and frown. Those two features seemed to be the ones that were of the most interest to her. It was a few minutes before she actually noticed his beard and the strangeness of facial hair on a drow.

One quick, short nod of her head was all that she could manage at first. To any with a keen nose, it was clear she reeked of fear, though that smell had lingered on before he came - it simply intensified now. She swallowed hard, making her trachea bob as she rose to greet him proper, "That is my name, may I inquire as to your own, Sir." The word caught in her throat for a second, but it came out all the same.

The dark elf's expression remained unchanged, although there was something in the way he held himself that said he was being impassive and neutral. Hard-set eyes barely seen beneath the dark lenses of a pair of spectacles shifted slightly, signalling that this large man was giving Pythas a very intense study.

"Johann Angrec Malagrav," he answered, not introduced. A hand slid into one of the pockets of his coat, and he produced forth a piece of paper that was carefully unfolded before her. The message from Pythas' signs was written in charcoal, and the man proceeded to explain himself. "I have an immense distaste of escort quests, however I could do well with the reward money, so I have sought you out to discuss details on the matter." There's an unusual amount of cold formality in those words.

Pythas cracked a half-smile and nodded her head, "Certainly. They money won't come until after I've returned home, but I can assure you that the money will be there in full, waiting for you." She swallowed, struggling with her feelings of distaste for his kind, "From there it will be four days to the item in question and about seven days back. I'm not certain of the perils ahead, but they aren't so great that I would be too frightened to go." She folded her hands in her lap, sitting very primly on the chair.

The large man continued to make a study out of Pythas as he listened along. His lips pulled at one corner thoughtfully when she had finished speaking.

"That you would be too frightened to go without an escort," he amended 'for her', working on the presumption that the only reason this job offer had come up was because she wouldn't just go on her own. "Fair enough. An escort that won't take long, dull months on end is one I can probably stand to work with." His eyes were barely seen squinting critically behind the dark glass. "And what of you, ma'am? Do you have any mundane or magical skills? Or will I be looking after a weak-willed princess who can't even cook a meal for herself because, Overseer forbid, there isn't a servant about to do so for her?"

Johann boldly allowed his true colors to show now, and it got more than a few interested looks from some of the people around them.

Pythas pursed out her lips, crossing her arms. Everything he had said was true, but girls like her were never accused of things like that to their faces, "I can boil water for porridge and I can toast bread on a open flame." Her face was red with shame, though her eyes went right to his. She didn't like being challenged, insulted.

She pulled out a knife that was worth more than a person would value her life, "I can also now clean and gut some animals, if you're patient."

The dark elf's eyes squinted critically.

"Hmph. Marginally helpful at best. Ah well, we can't all be perfect little go-getters." Johann shrugged to himself and pocketed the paper. Then he eyed the knife, and his brows knitted together.

"Alright, an amendment is in order: that's somewhat better. I see we'll have some work ahead of us then." He doesn't elaborate beyond that, but it very well could be another mild dose of snark regarding this entire job. It wouldn't be beyond him, that's for sure.

Pythas' cheeks were burning with embarrassment. It wasn't at all fair that she was being treated like this - didn't he understand she was a princess? The only people who spoke down to her were always punished. She wished she was back home, because he would be punished for sure.

She straightened her back, "Shall we get going?" It would be better to just get on the road and start walking. Then at least she could concentrate on something else.

He understood her status, but he didn't give two of any sort of expletive on the matter. He did notice the burning flush to Pythas' cheeks, and that alone earned the first of what would probably be many unpleasant grins.

"If you think you can deal with me for the length of the trip, then yes, let us be on our way-- after you've paid for your meal, of course." He nodded to the plate of food she had been nibbling on before he'd approached her.

Pythas let out a long sigh, like a scolded child and pulled out her purse. The last of her coins came rattling out. It was just enough for the meal. She lined up the coins in a little pile and reached for her bag. She hefted it up and tottered for a moment under the weight of it, "I can handle anything!"

The dark elf watched with only mild interest as Pythas paid up and started to prepare to leave.

"Mhm. We'll see just how honest that statement is in the days to come, Princess. C'mon then." Johann replaced the hat back onto his head and turned away to head for the tavern door. Quite more than a few of the patrons still around eyed him with unease and suspicion, which he could even be bothered to really return by this point. Those looks were 'old news' to this elf.

Pythas walked out the door with her head held high. She smiled. She could do this. She would do this. She wasn't just a limp-wrist princess, she was a leader in the making.

Of course, the moment she put her foot on the single step of the tavern she tripped. She fell before anyone had a chance to get to her.

Johann was very quick to turn at the sound of falling, already a few paces ahead of the elf. Although his mouth was closed, the tightening of his jawline (what little of it could be seen thanks to the beard) betrayed a restrained gritting of his fangs.

"You've got to be shitting me," he uttered under breath. He didn't reach down to pluck her up. He didn't offer a hand. He simply stared over the edges of his specs, clearly annoyed with Pythas as he waited to see if she was too injured to move or would pull herself up by her own bootstraps.

Pythas didn't move for what felt like an eternity. When she did she could feel something terribly wrong with her leg. She turned over carefully, blood covering her leg where a compound fracture had torn from her skin. She looked pale, paler than she had before.

Her eyes went wide and she opened her mouth to speak. Nothing came out for a long moment. It was barely the space it took to take a breath, though. She began to speak, ancient words that would begin to heal her. She couldn't be sure it would be enough - her magic was never powerful.

The man she had just hired on as her protector continued to stand there in the road, now with his thick arms crossed tightly in further show of annoyance. He watched on in silence as Pythas began to heal her injury, and the whole time he was chewing over the incident he was refusing to directly involve himself in.

"... when you aren't quite so busy being a terrible klutz, Princess, explain to me the odds of you breaking your leg by tripping on air," Johann snarked mirthlessly.

Pythas sniffled quietly, trying to keep from full-on crying. She rubbed her leg as the bone healed. She heard him speak, but didn't want to ask him. All she wanted to do was curl up in a tight ball and never speak again.

When she had done all she could for herself, she just shook her head. she couldn't answer him because she didn't know.

"I'm fine now."

The dark elf's expressed annoyance didn't ease up simply or immediately. Quick to close his eyes, Johann stared at the back of his eyelids and took a deep breath as he silently counted down.

Twenty seconds later he reopened his eyes, looking and feeling a bit calmer. The elf walked a few steps towards her and leaned down, extending a hand in offer. "Good, then get up so we can be on our way. If it makes you feel any better, I suppose you can borrow my horse. Less tripping in that way, at the very least."

Pythas looked excited, "Oh! I love animals. We have a handful of horses, my family does." She took his hand and rose. Despite her injury she didn't have a drop of blood on her dress. She smiled at Johann, "What is your horses' name? The horse I call mine is named Shatrill, it means Sun Dancer."

As soon as Pythas is back on her feet Johann releases his hold on her hand. He doesn't look too pleased to have thrown her headlong into a squee-fest about horses, but he relents and answers her question anyway.

"Grímvarðr," the dark elf answers as he turns away and starts walking off towards where he was sure there was an inn--and his possessions and horse, by extension. "And call me curious, but why'd you go and essentially name your horse 'Sun Dancer'?"