|
|
Post by Malice MacArran on Feb 29, 2012 19:00:04 GMT -6
 Seeing as it was day, Malice could not very well do her job. It wasn't a particularly nice day, really, for the sky was fairly clouded, like a shroud above her, and it looked like rain was imminent. But all the same, it wasn't dark enough for pursuit yet, and to be honest, Malice didn't know this part of the land well enough to play the highwayman right now. She'd been here a few times when she was younger--back in her gypsy days--but she did not recall the terrain like she should. three or four times to a place didn't make it home, after all.
She looked around, took it all in. Most her her days were spent in Solraya, but it seemed like sometimes people got too suspicious of her. No one knew who she was, of course, because she tried to never target anyone but passerbys from other towns. But occastionally, she got one she recognized. That was what guns were for.
But here, in this place they called Tyrian, Malice was happy. This would be a new kind of game, targeting those supposed enemies of her 'home' kingdom. She took in all the places she could hide, and those she could flee to. Marked in her mind the places she could hide bodies if need be. All these precautions were ultimately a matter of life or death for a highwayman like Malice, as she could not be caught.
Growing up a gyspy had certainly helped. She was fast, deadly, and silent. And her hated of men was what drove her to near madness. She wasn't in this for the gold. She was here to kill and to avenge her celibacy. That was all she wanted. But she couldn't make a steal until either tonight or even tomorrow, when she was familiar with the ground around her.
God forbid she ever meet the man who stole her life away, that damned highwayman that had made her his kind. He was her real target, but she would only ever know him by the scar on his chest, the one that she had left there. And since she never let a man bed her, she may never know him. It was better to kill them all anyhow.
Stuck in the middle of a meadow, Malice heard a sound approaching. In the daylight, she thought it best not to hide or even attempt a steal this time, so she played it down and pretended not to hear anything as she picked through the fresh heather blooming all along the meadow. Innocent peasant girl, no? Her sly craft was unmatchable, she reminded herself. No one knew who she was. No one except her.
|
|
Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
|
Post by Deleted on Feb 29, 2012 19:45:15 GMT -6
Ooc: Sorry for the cursing, it will only happen this once. I can change it if need be. However Andrew is angry so he curses a lot.  King Andrew Stewart was literally about to pull his hair out. Luckily enough for him, there was still plenty of it on top of his hair, however, he was now breathing deeply through his large nostrils trying to keep his composure. How dare his own council members declare that it was unrealistic and not smart to invade the small kingdoms around him in order to control them? Andrew wanted power and the world. He was merciless and would do anything to stop those pathetic small countries from gaining control of the sea around them and of Tyrian itself. His dead father would roll over in his grave and Andrew was nothing like the bastard who was never in his life.
Slamming his hands on the arms of the throne, he felt himself reaching another breaking point, “I don’t fucking care!” Andrew screamed at the top of his lungs, jumping up from his throne and over to the Council where all twenty gentlemen consisting of Dukes, Lords, his Secretary, his Advisors and his clergymen sitting there in silence knowing that whenever the King was screaming, their mouths needed to be closed at all times and never to argue back or suggest something else unless asked by the King himself.
“I never fucking need a reason to do anything I please around my kingdom, gentleman! I need to be rid of this man; find a reason and find one now or all of you will going back to your families with your heads on silver platters tonight! We will invade everyone around here and the first place will be that pathetic land that Joscelin and his whore of a wife run. We will invade them in less than two months! I expect battle plans and everything tomorrow!” King Andrew barked loudly at them before storming out of the council chambers that were in his large castle past the hustle and bustle of servants and attendants around him moving around him as he huffed storming his way to the grounds and over to the stables.
“I would like to ride my horse and step on it, I would not like to wait all bloody day!” Andrew snapped at the nearest stable boy who stuttered out an apology and rushed over to get his black horse Caesar ready. Andrew waited impatiently and climbed on the saddle when the boy was done and bowed to him.
“Do not let anyone follow me, I wish to be alone!” He snapped before pulling on the reins on the horse and Caesar made a grunting noise and began to ride off. Andrew loved the horses, especially Caesar. He could spend hours on him just riding. He needed to get away right now. He was going to invade all the surrounding countries and convince them to join an alliance with him so they could battle other countries for his own pride and glory. Smirking as he headed into the forests behind the castle that would lead him towards the sea, he glanced around thinking of his plan to invade Solraya and how that pathetic army and people would have no choice, but to surrender to him. He had the finest soldiers, weapons, cavalry, and artillery around, not to mention their excellent archers.
Suddenly Caesar made a grunting noise and started to slow down and soon Andrew realized why, there was a beautiful, young, blonde woman along the side of the trails. He did not recognize her which made everything better. He stopped Caesar completely and slowly made his way up to see her.
“Excuse me madame, you seem to be lost. Do you need assistance?” He asked smoothly giving her a smirk, women could never resist him.
|
|
|
|
Post by Malice MacArran on Feb 29, 2012 20:11:06 GMT -6
Gypsy rituals were what had finally set Malice on her way. She was sold on everything else, from her pact with her half-siblings, to the music that the gypsies played day after day. She loved the clothing, the freedom, the nonchalance of her band on how she acted and with whom she associated. Malice never worried about food, for the men had always hunted and the older women prepared meals. For Malice, all that was to worry about was finding another gypsy to marry, preferrably a young, strong man from another band.
This was how she'd grown up. Her life was carefree and easy to follow, and it seemed apparent that nothing could go wrong for a girl as she. But that was, unfortunately, far from true. Once she'd learned the sex rituals of the older gypsies by night, Malice began to feel uncomfortable. She'd never wanted a man like that, nor did she want him to have free access to her body. These men were dirty.
For a few years, she lived just fine, as long as she stayed innocent and far from the rituals of the older men and women. But year after year, Malice noticed how misplaced she was becoming, and she was beginning to feel unwanted. Perhaps she didn't belong there. And when one man implied that, on her sixteenth birthday, she was to make love to him in front of the other gypsy men, Malice fled, never looking back.
That had started it. Somehow, she was here now. Glancing around, there were hills and high grass. But the hills were lower than those in Solraya, and it was more of a plain than a meadow. Malice didn't feel as comfortable in this terrain, for the horizon played against her and the woods were thin and thorny. It was not like at home in Solraya, where she could comfortably make camp in the woods and make her own way.
Of course, she'd been many places in the past years, even into other lands that were hundreds of miles from Solraya. But nothing pleased her more than home.
At home, her gypsies would never find her. They were from miles and miles away from Solraya, ina place where the language was different and the climate colder. In fact, they were from around the area her father was supposedly from, and her father was a tribal chief named MacArran. She'd been told he was important, near a king, but Malice never took much care.
She watched as a figure came over the horizon, that awful, flat horizon, upon horseback with no apparent intention of slowing its speed. But the closer it came, it slowed pace with approach. She saw quickly that it was a man, whose horse was nobly bred. This was not a man to mess with, it became clear, as she made out the ire in his face. She wanted to laugh, but knew it was likely a bad idea right now.
His voice labelled him a devonaire womanizer. His stance, proud. His face, noble. Malice had him figured out in no time. The only problem was, she knew no one in Tyrian, and she couldn't exactly shoot him here in broad day, especially since he was likely armed himself. She wished to steal, but refrained.
"I'm not lost, sir, but if I were I might ask the likes of you." Sure, she'd play along. Games were fun. Especially the ones where she could outplay a man.
|
|
Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
|
Post by Deleted on Feb 29, 2012 22:43:25 GMT -6
center] [/center] Andrew’s friends and attendants always discouraged and advised him not to go riding alone, but he rarely listened to them. When he went riding alone, it normally screamed at people to leave him the hell alone until he was ready to talk to someone once again. Normally that was Gabrielle, his lovely, gorgeous wife, but lately she had been distant. Rolling his eyes at her being so sensitive, he had forced himself on her like every man could do with his wife. Of course he had his mistresses, but sex with Gabrielle was old and tiring and he longed and desired more. He was not getting younger and he wanted the most beautiful, youngest girl possible.
And now it seemed that she was now in his eyesight, Andrew longed to have his way with her. She was not familiar with him which made him want her even more which sounded strange to him, but having that secrecy made him even more turned on. He listened to her speak about her not being lost, but if she were that she could possibly ask him. He raised a bushy eyebrow before deciding to get down off of Caesar deciding that the mare needed a break from riding so hard, trying to get away from his life. He loved his life, but every now and then he needed a rest from all of it. A day off from it all. But a King never rested as his bastard father once told him.
He jumped down from the saddle and walked over to her slowly, “Oh would you? You are not familiar with these lands like I am. I am certain you need a guide to help you search these lands for whatever you desire madame.” He replied to her with a smirk before growling as he heard his name being called and turned around with a menacing look on his already frustrated face as several attendants found them and stopped suddenly at the look on his face.
“Your Majesty, we were ordered by the Queen to search for you and see if you are alright.” His attendant said and he growled with a sigh. He just wanted some peace right now with this beautiful young woman.
“Fine, leave me for now.” He gritted through his teeth at the attendants watching them leave and then turning back towards the young blonde in front of him.
“May I have your name please?” He asked her being polite for once. It was all part of the trick.
 STATUS complete TAG Malice ATTIRE Same as above
LYRICS Time To Dance; Panic! At the Disco WORD COUNT 421 NOTES She should so try and rob him lol.
COPYRIGHT Flik of Roleplaying Extras |
|
|
|
Post by Malice MacArran on Mar 1, 2012 22:15:12 GMT -6
Games were jouyous things. Malice's sharply learned skill in manipulation and trickery was the sword that she used in her fights. Wordplay was a favourite of hers, as was seduction (which, by the way, she had only ever had relations once- and that was the time against her will with a highwayman).
Malice had lived a long while in the knowing that she wasn't like others. She didn't give herself away, nor practice things simply for the pleasing of others. She had never really belonged in the gypsy band, and there was a place deep within the sequestered chambers of her heart that had known that all along. There had never been understanding between Malice and the members of the band, nor had she ever truly felt like she belonged. There was simply something that didn't ever really feel in line while she'd lived there, and now it didn't matter because Malice had vowed never to go back.
Her vows were never broken, either.
She watched in false wonder as he dismounted and approached her, pretending to be infatuated with the way he moved. Her eyes, wide and innocent, gazed upon his face, his chest, down even more... and then she suddenly jerked her head back up. This was something she'd trained herself in. She blushed noticeably and replied sweetly, "As long as my guide were the likes of you, my lord." she lowered her head with a slightly naughty smile.
And the closer he came, the more she knew what she'd do. He had sent away his servants, and they were alone now, so Malice could do as she pleased now. She looked to her left to check her earlier calculations and set her mind upon it.
"MacArran," she replied sensually, placing a hand upon his face. She moved in for a kiss (yes, already) but as soon as she was near him, she was upon him, with a pistol against his brow and a smirk upon her face. Malice didn't reveal her first name, just the one her father had been so kind to provide. With a low chuckle, Malice said, "Stand and Deliver, sir. I canna think you'd make a move now."
|
|
Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
|
Post by Deleted on Mar 3, 2012 11:39:59 GMT -6
Tricks were an amazing gifts and abilities to learn and manipulate with when given the perfect opportunity. Andrew was a master mind at tricks, he used them practically every day from seducing women to getting his own way at court. He grew up learning and respecting those tricks from his own bastard of a father. His father was a true disgrace to the Kingdom and court, and Andrew could not have imagined getting to where he was without him. True he was nothing like his father, but that was why Andrew was the way he was. He wanted to be the complete opposite of him and he was. Nothing and no one could ever change that.
Andrew glanced down his thoughts, attention and focus going back towards the beautiful, young woman who was now blushing at him gently and telling that she would never have a good tour guide quite like himself. He smirked taking pride in the fact that he could make any woman blush. That was something he never ever failed at.
“If you would like a tour my dear then all you must do is ask for it.” He replied smoothly and then took a step forward as she introduced herself and then he felt something hard against his forehead and he immediately recognized the tip of a pistol having contact with his skin and he literally growled at her and swung his left arm up knocking the pistol from her hand hearing it fall to the ground.
“How dare you point a pistol at me and think you can get away with it just because you’re a young woman! I’ve had better looking!” He snapped before grabbing both of her wrists swiftly and holding them tightly in one strong hand before reaching into his hoister and taking his sword in his hand having it at her throat.
He smirked at her reaction and tugged her closely, “I may be the King, however, you shall never cross me or threaten me MacArran or whatever your name is my dear. That is a certainty. Pius, I demand rope!” He yelled towards a guard. Pius, one of his own bodyguards rushed forward his eyes a bit wide at the sight in front of him.
“Your Majesty, shall I take care of her?” Pius asked and Andrew only smirked and shook his head.
“Oh no Pius I shall do it myself.” He replied as Pius returned his smirked and tied the woman’s wrists and ankles together for him and then left.
“Now now you’re all tied up with a sword at your throat, what shall I do with you now?” He asked her before pushing her against a nearby tree and smacking her hard across the face.
STATUS complete TAG Malice ATTIRE Same
LYRICS Time To Dance; Panic! At the Disco WORD COUNT 455 NOTES Just that he's beyond pissed off lol.
COPYRIGHT Flik of Roleplaying Extras |
|
|
|
Post by Malice MacArran on Mar 3, 2012 12:57:33 GMT -6
Malice had only failed at this a couple times, and those were the times she'd made rash decisions in the presence of a powerful man. Luckily, she'd gotten herself out of those both times, and came away clean. It also helped that those had both occurred around France and so none of the locals of Solraya yet knew her identity. She was still that devilish little faerie everyone told tales of, that lived in the woods and entranced men before taking all that they had. Funny thing was, she'd been raped once. Once. No man had ever touched her after that.
And the man that had? Well, he'd made her who she was. A killer out to damn all men to their eternal hell, and to do as much of this as the world would allow. She'd lure in every man she could manage and take his material possessions, those things that seemed to drive the world today. And she would never open herself to another man again, she had vowed as much.
This, however was something else altogether. This man was threatening any celibacy she retained from never committing the act herself. She wouldn't have it. Nor him. If he tried to touch her, she'd find a way to kill him, because Malice knew that she would much prefer death to letting another man take advantage of her. She scoffed at him, and couldn't do much for herself as she was tied up. She had to save her fighting, she knew, and so she was oddly submissive. She missed having her pistol already, but Malice knew she had many other weapons on her person that he did not know of. Her shiv, for example, and another dagger she'd taken off a man in France. The shiv was in her boot, the dagger under her dress. If only she could get to one, Malice was home free.
She resented this man. Not afraid of a pistol, was he? She'd show him. She'd make it known why her name was Malice.
He'd thrown her hard against a tree but she'd not resisted. Her wrists, tightly bound as they were, weren't too awfully tight, and given the moment, she could free them. Every time he turned around, she spit on the rope, making it as slippery as she could. After he'd slapped her, he turned away only for a moment, and Malice freed her hands. This, she'd had much practice with in her free time. Ha. He was no match for her wit.
She went first for the shiv in her boots. She didn't dare free her ankles, as firstly she had not the time, and secondly realised it would only make it more difficult for him to have his way with her. She hurriedly grabbed her shiv and returned it, in her hands, behind her back, so he was not aware it was there. With a smirk, pretending she was still well bound, she mocked when he turned back to her, "Slap me again. Please. Do you think you could really hurt the MacArran, sirrah? You mock my femininity. I am a warrior, sirrah, not a toy." She kept a tight grip on the shiv behind her back, and delighted in his not knowing it was there.
He would try and rape her, she knew. Men were like this. And that was why they all had to die.
|
|
Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
|
Post by Deleted on Mar 9, 2012 15:28:24 GMT -6
Andrew never felt remorse in his life and he was not about to start now. He considered him perfect as a King and a husband, father, warrior, servant to God, among other things. All things happened for a reason he believed so there was a specific reason why this gorgeous and feisty woman arrived in his country. He would completely take advantage of her and her hospitality while she was around him. He had her exactly where he wanted her right now. She would be his no matter what the efforts or outcome of it all. If he had to kill her afterwards, he could if he wanted to. Or he could take her to the castle and have her become his mistress, there were so much he could do for her. And she would enjoy it. He would make her enjoy it and want more. He never felt anything for any of his mistresses, he just wanted to lay with a young woman and have his way with her.
He smirked at this woman who was called MacArran, which he still didn’t believe was her real name who kept scoffing and scowling at him. She wouldn’t like it now, but she would enjoy it when he began to have his way with her. He was just that confident and sure of himself. No woman ever regretted the sex and if they did, well he would deal with that later. He found it amusing that she was trying to put up a fight with him. She did not know who she was dealing with obviously. One of the most notorious men around the land. The most powerful man in all of the country and he would continue to make it that way.
Smirking once more as her words about slapping her once more, he grabbed her chin in his hand and admired her beautiful face gently before leaning over to smell her hair which smelled wonderfully. With a bit of spice and floral in it, he did it once more before moving away.
“I only will lay a hand on you like that if I feel like you deserve it my dear. I do not mock anyone that does not deserve it and women are not warriors. Why would you ever believe that I would actually fall into your trap for saying that? Don’t you dare judge me.” He spat at her releasing her chin while still holding his sword to her throat.
“Now I would hate to pierce your beautiful skin so I would strongly advise you listen to me and enjoy what I have in mind for you. You wished to see more of my land, well by all means, let me show you.” He snarled at her grabbing her arm roughly before stepping on something that did not feel like the ground. He then glanced down and raised an eyebrow noticing the rope from her wrists on the ground.
“Well now what do you we have here? I see you are feisty. I like that in a woman. However I do not trust you enough to let the sword go from against your neck so do as I say or your next words might be your last.” He replied picking it up with his foot and swinging his foot up big enough so he could catch it in his free hand.
“So what shall I do with you now? You should be punished for unbinding yourself.” He said with a smirk tugging her arm roughly towards an empty field close by. He could do whatever he wanted there. No one could hear her scream.
STATUS completeTAG Malice ATTIRE link to outfit
LYRICS Time To Dance; Panic! At the Disco WORD COUNT 607 NOTES Hmmmmmmmm 
COPYRIGHT Flik of Roleplaying Extras |
|
|
|
Post by Malice MacArran on Mar 9, 2012 15:56:26 GMT -6
Clearly, Malice had finally met a men with whom she was evenly matched, who possessed both the agility and mind she did, if not her superlative. King, so he was. Malice recalled some things she'd once heard of Tyrian, from one of her half-brothers, Rousch. Actually, he was not her half-brother at all. He was her full blood brother, the other child of the MacArran. But he denied all claims to this.
Rousch had long ago stepped down from his claim and now Malice was the only person to hold one to the title of the MacArran. It was a good name, and she knew that there were cases wherein a woman had taken the tribe with her name. This was something that Malice one day hoped to do, though she knew not how or if she'd be able, what with her absolution in her hate for mankind, for she had, for some time now, never so much as thought pleasantly of a man. They, to her, were all scum and rogues who knew not the terrible things women felt. They did awful things and never owned up. And it was for this that all men needed to die. Their women, too, if that was what it took.
No, Malice would never fall in love. She'd vowed as much.
And he dared threaten her? Malice knew how to fight a man, and it was not with empty threats but rather words. Grace. Guilt. Guile. "Are we not? Do we do nothing noble? I would find some notable shame in thinking I made nothing of my existance." She smirked, knowing he understood her and proving that she could speak among the most well-learned of them all. "This skin is but mortal. It's not my concern," she said passively, dismissing what he said with such ardent innocence that it could not possibly be taken for mockery, even though it was. And then, at his next cue, Malice switched her approach, to make him think she was bipolar, two-faced.
"I'd very much like my last words to please my father and the man whose lands I lay claim to," she hinted, knowing this was mostly true and that the lands she hoped to get from her cheiftan father in Scotland were vast. "Great lands, in ol' Scotland. I do not jest with you, sir, when I say so; I am the MacArran, and my claim to the throne is valid. My... lands... will one day be far greater than your own." She smiled in her eye and waited for this reaction, knowing it would have to spark interest in any man worth his weight in greed.
Not regret but rather disdain crossed her face at his discovery. He still saw not the shiv behind her back, and she intended to hold it there till she was able to hold him down (the opposite, she was certain, of what he thought).
With this weapon claming her thoughts, she hid it just under her skirts with one hand. With a naughty glance, she answered him, "Punish me as you please. I am sure to enjoy it, if 'tis by you. I'm sure my father would love to have a bastard child from the MacArran." She forced her body up against him when he tried to pull her away, her features prominent and her voice lavacious. "Whaddaya say, my King?" She felt with her free hand that her shiv was safely just under her belt, and knew also that her dagger was under her dress.
|
|
