barbermonger: a one on one roleplay search forum

WELCOME TO BARBERMONGER
WHAT IS BARBERMONGER?

BARBERMONGER is a site designed to help roleplayers find other roleplayers, specifically one-on-one roleplayers, as opposed to larger roleplay games. Functioning like a pinboard, BARBERMONGER allows users to create advertisements, bump advertisements, and respond to other advertisements, without requiring them to register an account. However, registering an account will allow you to edit your posts, find your own topics, and use the private messaging system.

HELPFUL LINKS:

BARBERMONGER RULES
REGISTER AN ACCOUNT
TODAY'S ACTIVE TOPICS
MEMBERS
SEARCH WITH JCINK
SEARCH WITH GOOGLE



Pages: (12) « First ... 10 11 12  ( Go to first unread post )
Add Reply
New Topic
New Poll

 [ 18+ ] who hath desired the sea — her menaces swift as her mercies, for bird
bird
 Posted: Jun 25 2016, 11:32 PM
Quote

number one dad
Group: Members
Posts: 491
Joined: 25-February 11

Status: Offline

Awards:




Mariam's staff hits her in the back and knocks a little breath out of her -- Alis stiffens so it won't show when it starts to throb. Old lesson, that one - good old stoic Armel's, never let them see you hurting. Not here, not in front of these southern yokels, not over -- nothing, she tells herself, just a little spilled wine, but backing down now would be a weakness. She sets her shoulders and turns around slowly, knuckles white around her staff. It comes out of her before she knows what she's saying: "Didn't realize you picked today to be a bitch."

Someone laughs. A low ohh-hhh trails from somewhere in the room - Alis whips around, looking for the source of it. Her eyes are flashing, wild and vicious as she rounds on Mariam. The men closest take a step back.

"I yield," she spits, like a vicious echo of the night before. She tosses her staff at Mariam's feet and grins viciously, arms raised in exasperation - "I yield!" -- laughing hard and bitter like she knows it, like she knows it'll hurt more than anything she could do with a staff. Her heart twists in her throat, hammers against her teeth. "That's what you want, isn't it?"

She draws herself up to her full height and steps close, her feet moving faster than any kind of sense, regret aching in her chest even as she does it.

"You want to fight me you do it with a sword, fishwife. We both know how you'd fare."

--------------------
PMEmail
^
Lar
 Posted: Jun 26 2016, 12:05 PM
Quote

viewing online list
Group: Moderator
Posts: 420
Joined: 6-December 11

Status: Offline

Awards:




Sam isn't smiling anymore—neither are Nioll and Tomas, somewhere in the back of the room. They know the taste of bad blood and soured honor. Mariam doesn't see it yet, even as a wordless noise of frustration rises from her throat and she kicks Alis' discarded staff aside. It's all she can do to bite her tongue and keep from spilling their little secret right here—to keep from saying that Alis took advantage. The thought comes like a wall in her mind, impossible to see around, blinding her from sense.

"I want—" she begins, but the answer flashes past her like a fish in a river, hard to catch.

Then Alis is too close for comfort. Mariam draws herself up too, though it helps her little, and spits at Alis' feet. The needling little sting of fishwife nearly blacks her vision with rage, heat burning on her face and behind her ears. There is a part of her that knows she should walk away—and then there is the part of her that lifts her staff sharply upward so that it crashes against Alis' chin. The crowd's startled reaction is but a distant roar as she drops her staff and pulls her fist back and curves it into the other woman's gut.
PMEmailAIM
^
bird
 Posted: Jun 26 2016, 08:06 PM
Quote

number one dad
Group: Members
Posts: 491
Joined: 25-February 11

Status: Offline

Awards:




The first hit cracks into her jaw and forces her teeth together, sending her careening backwards into the crowd - which goes quiet, then, unless it's that Alis can't hear it over her ears ringing. She staggers back, feet tangling, catching herself against the wall of bodies behind her. Even then, there's a look on her face like she doesn't believe that Mariam's going to hit her again.

At first it seems to happen all at once, and so slowly -- Tomas barreling forward, hands up, saying come on, don't do this --, the butt of Mariam's staff following through and swiping him in the neck. Her vision blurs around Nioll, now with a hand on Tomas's collar and another in Sam's face, and then Mariam's hard eyes and hard fists are on her. She doesn't fight back; she crumples. All around her there are boots moving. Alis stares at the floor between her hands and spits blood at it. Get up --

But by the time she does, it's chaos, it's suffocating, and when she launches herself forward into that writhing human mass at Mariam with a strangled yell there are at least four bodies between them, brawling with fists, with staves, dragging each other backwards, dragging her down. Someone else hits her and she isn't sure if it's Mariam. She hits someone else and feels bone crunching as she goes down again, a boot kickinb into her ribs.

"Enough--!" At once, something shoves the whole mass of bodies around her back - the captain, wading into the mess of it, clearing the floor with a stave in one hand easily and -- Sam, it looks like, by the collar in the other, at least until he is shoved aside. Alis blinks at open air, the crowd still and shrinking away from her. The captain says nothing for a long time, reading the room, cold and wary. Tomas has a hand on her shoulder now, but he freezes too.

"Clear out. All of you, outside. Now. You too, Cormeilles - yes, you, Tomas. Thermyras, stay behind." Tomas hesitates but steps back. "You," he says, finally, glaring down at Alis scrabbling to her feet. "Go to the healers, I'll deal with you later."

PMEmail
^
Lar
 Posted: Jun 26 2016, 09:41 PM
Quote

viewing online list
Group: Moderator
Posts: 420
Joined: 6-December 11

Status: Offline

Awards:




Tomas is there, the next time Mariam takes stock of what's happening, his storm grey eyes too much like Alis'. Nioll is there too, and Perin, and Sam, all thrashing together in a mass of fists and feet. Mariam sees it all from outside herself, swinging her staff on instinct to block blows, though a fist catches her upside the head somewhere along the line and fills her head with bells. Someone else topples her to the ground at last and lands a knee beneath her ribs, making her gasp and retch.

In the midst of it she sees Alis crumpled on the floor, spitting blood. Something akin to regret ripples through the still surface of her mind—and then Nioll is on her, fingers clawing through her hair and scratching at her scalp. She removes him with a staff to the shin, just in time for the captain to snatch him up and toss him aside as if he weighs nothing.

Mariam stills, staff clutched to her chest, all but cowering before the captain.

"Sir," she begins, but he cuts her off before she can dig her grave deeper. The room clears slowly under the captain's stern gaze, until only the two of them are left. Even Sam goes quietly, for as fiercely as her was fighting.

Mariam hangs her head.


*


Lunch is eerily quiet that day; Mariam is completely missing, and a few people involved in the brawl straggle in late from the healers, nursing bruises in silence. Tension still hangs over the lot of them. The few islanders among their number huddle together in silence, eyes on Alis and Tomas.

Afterwards, the captain calls them out onto muddy fields, where they slog through in formation what feels like a thousand times. The ground makes it hard to march, and every last one of them knows it's a punishment—pointless drills to wear them down. There will be no sparring today.

Mariam is soaked to mid-thigh and shivering by the time they're halfway through, but she takes every inch of it without complaint. Think on what you've done, the captain had said. They are a unit, brothers and sisters in arms, now squabbling among themselves over... Mariam dares not think of the previous night, though she catches sight of Alis now and again. Mariam is quick to look away.

By the time the sun starts to sink, everyone is weary. Too weary to fight, too weary to think, too weary to eat. The captain takes no pity on them.

"Since you're all so energetic today," he booms, "let's saddle up!" And he marches them right down to the stables, where the lanterns are already lit and the warhorses are dozing in their stalls. Mariam's hands shake as she does up Percy's girth. She feels Alis' eyes on her.

They're all a mess on horseback, with slumping shoulders and tight legs—but Mariam sits straight, shamed into behavior. The captain passes a number of torches among them to show their way into the growing dark, and leads them out along the banks of the Iscamor. Out here, Campigna glows like a great beacon, and their lights are doubled in the streaming water.

Mariam falls to the back of the pack, far from the torches ahead. Without willing it, she scans the horses for Alis' dark bay, though they're all virtually indistinguishable in the gloom.

Dark has truly fallen by the time they turn back. The captain leads them back towards Campigna and rounds them all up, scrutinizing.

"Thermyras," he says, loud enough for everyone to hear. "If we divide against each other, we all suffer together. Have we learned a lesson today?"

She nods, mouth dry.

"Dismount, wash up, get to bed," he hollers, dropping down off his courser's back.

Mariam's face is red as she leads Percy back to his stall.

The stable clears out quickly, leaving only Mariam and a few others. She sees Alis as she turns to leave and hovers there tentatively before stepping over and placing a hand lightly on the other woman's shoulder.

"I'm sorry," she says, just loud enough for the pair of them to hear.
PMEmailAIM
^
0 User(s) are reading this topic (0 Guests and 0 Anonymous Users)
0 Members:

Topic Options
Pages: (12) « First ... 10 11 12 
Add Reply
New Topic
New Poll


 


 

AFFILIATES
Shadowplay Roleplay Gateway Fragile Things


skin created by they-go of RCR, CAUTION, they go and wombat designs