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<blockquote data-quote="Dlsharrock" data-source="post: 4316285" data-attributes="member: 55833"><p>The burglars are taken to Baran's hut, the conscious thief struggling, squirming and shrieking the whole way. "This has worked for you in the past, I take it?" Is Baran's response. </p><p></p><p>Granthan is diverted by Belfalor who keeps him talking outside while the others take their prisoners inside and bind them to chairs.</p><p></p><p>Gellion slips in behind the last person to enter the hut. He keeps a low profile in the shadows near the door.</p><p></p><p>Once the pair are seated the conscious thief pays his unconscious cohort suprisingly little heed, barely acknowledging her presence. Instead he seems primarily concerned with his own comfort, conversely yelling and ranting or begging for compassion.</p><p></p><p>"It's a wonder the race survived. Gel? Could you go close that window in the back, make sure nothing else's been disturbed?" Baran gently, softly, lays the savaged ârchent on the table, out of harm's way.</p><p></p><p>Gellion starts, surprised to be addressed (probably hoping not to be noticed). "Y... yes foredwarf Baran," he hurries sideways, knocks over a random stool next to Aerec (who hops sideways to save his shins), picks it back up with an apologetic bumbling of words which sound something like: 'sorryairecdintseeit' then hurries to the back room.</p><p></p><p>Baran shifts part of his attention to the elf, "'Pery a nath' was it, lady of vinca?"</p><p></p><p>"We of the wood call them Dorn Perrianath," Aranel replies, the word slightly trilled in the Elvish manner, quite unlike Baran's butchery of it. "They are to all accounts a gentle folk of hill and burrow. Full of mischief but without malice. The Men of Gladden call them Hobbits. Stoor Hobbits."</p><p></p><p>She frowns at the cursing, pleading figure...a puzzled frown like someone trying to work a cipher or read an ill-understood tongue.</p><p></p><p>"What is it they stole?" On impulse Aranel moves forward to get a better look at the female bandit.</p><p></p><p>Her face is downturned, framed by curly hair, so Aranel must bend and look up at the stoor hobbit's face from underneath. She looks terribly pale, the thick crimson blood trickling from the wound on her head at stark contrast with the ashen colour of her skin. She's young, with the same broad cheeks, wide brow and pinched nose and lips of her companion. On her head has been scribed some kind of rune. When they were bringing the girl in the rune looked like a tattoo, maybe just ink or paint. But now it stands proud on angry red welts, as though the character were carved into her flesh and the result had scabbed over.</p><p></p><p>Suddenly the Hobbit's eyes open. They don't flicker or open slowly and with confusion as may be expected of one emerging from a groggy state. They open instantly and fix Aranel with a cold stare. The iris is yellow, with a tiny black pupil. The edges of the whites of her eyes are blood-shot.</p><p></p><p>Even as Aranel watches, the yellow fades, replaced by shining blue. The girl blinks. Realisation seems to settle on her face and she starts to sob softly, avoiding the gaze of any in the room, especially the male Perrianath who is now glowering at her.</p><p></p><p>Aranel recoils instinctively, feeling as if cold water had just been splashed over her. There was only one place she knew where such dark magicks as this lurked. But -why-?</p><p></p><p>She returns her flinty gaze to the Hobbit male, meeting him glower for glower.</p><p></p><p>"Show me what was taken."</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Dlsharrock, post: 4316285, member: 55833"] The burglars are taken to Baran's hut, the conscious thief struggling, squirming and shrieking the whole way. "This has worked for you in the past, I take it?" Is Baran's response. Granthan is diverted by Belfalor who keeps him talking outside while the others take their prisoners inside and bind them to chairs. Gellion slips in behind the last person to enter the hut. He keeps a low profile in the shadows near the door. Once the pair are seated the conscious thief pays his unconscious cohort suprisingly little heed, barely acknowledging her presence. Instead he seems primarily concerned with his own comfort, conversely yelling and ranting or begging for compassion. "It's a wonder the race survived. Gel? Could you go close that window in the back, make sure nothing else's been disturbed?" Baran gently, softly, lays the savaged ârchent on the table, out of harm's way. Gellion starts, surprised to be addressed (probably hoping not to be noticed). "Y... yes foredwarf Baran," he hurries sideways, knocks over a random stool next to Aerec (who hops sideways to save his shins), picks it back up with an apologetic bumbling of words which sound something like: 'sorryairecdintseeit' then hurries to the back room. Baran shifts part of his attention to the elf, "'Pery a nath' was it, lady of vinca?" "We of the wood call them Dorn Perrianath," Aranel replies, the word slightly trilled in the Elvish manner, quite unlike Baran's butchery of it. "They are to all accounts a gentle folk of hill and burrow. Full of mischief but without malice. The Men of Gladden call them Hobbits. Stoor Hobbits." She frowns at the cursing, pleading figure...a puzzled frown like someone trying to work a cipher or read an ill-understood tongue. "What is it they stole?" On impulse Aranel moves forward to get a better look at the female bandit. Her face is downturned, framed by curly hair, so Aranel must bend and look up at the stoor hobbit's face from underneath. She looks terribly pale, the thick crimson blood trickling from the wound on her head at stark contrast with the ashen colour of her skin. She's young, with the same broad cheeks, wide brow and pinched nose and lips of her companion. On her head has been scribed some kind of rune. When they were bringing the girl in the rune looked like a tattoo, maybe just ink or paint. But now it stands proud on angry red welts, as though the character were carved into her flesh and the result had scabbed over. Suddenly the Hobbit's eyes open. They don't flicker or open slowly and with confusion as may be expected of one emerging from a groggy state. They open instantly and fix Aranel with a cold stare. The iris is yellow, with a tiny black pupil. The edges of the whites of her eyes are blood-shot. Even as Aranel watches, the yellow fades, replaced by shining blue. The girl blinks. Realisation seems to settle on her face and she starts to sob softly, avoiding the gaze of any in the room, especially the male Perrianath who is now glowering at her. Aranel recoils instinctively, feeling as if cold water had just been splashed over her. There was only one place she knew where such dark magicks as this lurked. But -why-? She returns her flinty gaze to the Hobbit male, meeting him glower for glower. "Show me what was taken." [/QUOTE]
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