RP:Impromptu Talk with the Ranger
Objective
Easy discussion between Jacklin and Warren about coming aboard as the Larket Archery Commander.
Actual Meeting
Warren makes his way into this tavern of roughneck seadogs for the first time in his entire life, the ranger's newest companion, a sleek black wolf, trots in behind him unafraid. The two are an akward pair to behold in such a setting, but these people have seen thier fair share of things in thier lifetimes and quickly dismiss the man to go about his business. but if any of this effected the woodland rogue, none could tell, his facial expressions were placid at best, his forest green eyes hidden beneath a cloak designed to conceal ones features from prying eyes. With the swagger of the predator that he is, Warren makes his way to the closest seat, the wolf who has become like his shadow trails after him, eyeing any who dare come close to the ranger.
Jacklin was situated half on barstool-half off as cobalt optics lifted from the grainy bartop to where the Whaler’s door had welcomed another individual into its raucous grasp. The elder human never attempted to hide her blatant stare, for the woman was never one of grace. Jacklin knew next to nothing on the subject but, of course, it hadn’t killed her yet. Armors had been removed from her face only, tucked neatly inside her breastplate and Uabhasach clung affectionately to her back like a child to its mother. The metallic tool was the closest thing Jacklin had come to mothering. Slipping fully from the stool as the ranger took his seat, she wandered a few steps closer. “Not seen you around here. Around anywhere, actually.”
Warren lets his keen gaze fall upon the rather interesting form of this strange woman as she approaches. Scutiny is what awaited her, as she was studied like a panther stidies its prey before the kill. A few moments pass between the two, the black wolf making the only noise as he lets off a low growl of warning as Jacklin closes the distance now. From beneath his hood the ranger's thin lips part to say. " Such is my nature, to go about unseen." This is the only reply given, as the man now sits, hands having already disappeared from view to grasp the hilts of the twin daggers that are hidden from view. Should this woman wish to test the ranger, he was prepared, and by the looks of this one, she was not to bne taken lightly.
Jacklin::Had the woman been aware, the ranger was quite correct in his analysis of her. Not minding the tension between them, Jacklin took a seat opposite of him with eyes trained on the black wolf. Eyeing the feral beast for a short moment she placed leather-bound index finger against her lips, toward the canine, before replacing hand against her lap. Steely sight affixing itself against the brutish face of the male before proceeding with the conversation, “And it is my nature to see all things. Or try, at least. Where you from?”
Warren watches as the wolf, normally a beast without fear, humble down before this woman. Dominance, a beastial quality that the ranger noted this woman was accustomed to, and admired. As her steely stare fixed upon him, the ranger's own harlequin hued eyes fixated upon the woman's attire. Her weapon of choice, or rather, the weapon he could see, was examined for a brief moment. She likes to get her hands dirty, another admirable trait. The next noteworthy object would have to be the signet right upon her hand, the symbols of Larket easily identifyable to the man who lives upon the lands bourders. Once again the ranger's responce is short. " The wild is my home. Though Sage is my hunting ground." The man shifts in his seat, to recline into a more comfortable position, trying to ease the obvious tension. His bow, a well crafted and well taken care of, weapon is slung over his shoulder. Intricate etchings can be seen about the bow, leather bindings of high quality make up the handle. Several arrows protrude from behind the ranger's left shoulder from thier home within his quiver, the feathers of the ice-falcon used as personal markings by the woodland outcast. The barmaid, after being assaulted by a drunken sailor's hand in inapproriate places, makes her way to the table and asks. " Anythin' ta drink for ye?"
Jacklin fished a hand blindly down into the folds of her armored frame, brow furrowed as delicate digits finally caught their prize within the heated metals. Carefully, tenderly the woman brought the prize upwards to reveal a severely worn flask filled with her most favorite of liquids: Whiskey. Hailing the barmaid with a jostle of the container upon her query, “I’ve all I need here.” In a motion of mimickery, those stoic pools swung to the backside of the male. Not content to remain in the audience, Jacklin rose to her feet and passed around Warren to view the instrument of choice. A bow, she knew of, but the queen was not of the ranged variety. She’d used such a tool when needed, but the brawler wasn’t a master of the thing. And thus, she hardly paid any mind except for where her military was interested. Sliding back into her chair she took a jerky swill of the whiskey, the amber liquid settling into a puffed cheek until it eventually made its way into the depths below. “Ranger then, yes? You should make yourself known to those that patrol those borders. I reside in a town west of here called Larket. Mainly a human civilization with the exception of a few other breeds and varieties…you been there?”
Warren watches the executioner's every move, the ranger having spent years mastering the ability to correctly catagorize people and targets so that his work was easier. The bow was a good way to guess his chosen profession, and thus the man now knows this woman is quite the judge of character herself. When she speaks of Larket, the ranger's ears perk up just slightly. It was, afterall, his birthplace, even though he now lived in wilderness of Sage Forest, he still ventured into the kingdom of men to examine its current situations. A familiarity came across the man as he gazed upon this warrior woman once again. Where has he seen her before? But as these moments of comtiplation escape him, Warren realises he was addressed and replies. " A good guess. And yes, I have ventured into Larket a time or two, as for making myself known to your men, perhaps you should ask them why they don't do a better job of patroling." If she was quick, she could catch site of the smirk that now plays upon the ranger's lips.
Jacklin produced a strained chuckle, the tones coming more in the form of a snort than wavering mirth. Swiping a few strands of hair from around her face she leans back into the strict embrace of the banally created chair, its legs creaking in protest of her lithe weight, the seat beneath her shivering slightly before she came to rest steadily again on the bar’s grimy floor. Elbow hit the table between them with a satisfying thud, chin lifted to rest within cupped palms as regard never left the face of Warren, “If you caused any immediate danger to Larket then you’d be well introduced to my men. And more to the point, with me,” at this Jacklin lifted a brow, again brows creased to strengthen her words if only by a physical standpoint, “but my men do not worry themselves with rangers traveling amongst the wood. It is their own business, the hunters, until they step wrongly into my town.”
Warren catches the drop of self importance, and recognition and memory fall into place. The staff, her demenour, she must be the Queen known as Jacklin. The ranger has heard of this woman before, of how she came into power, and of how she has seemingly built Larket from the ground up. Yes, now the ranger rather enjoyed his company, even admist the subtle threat that was not ignored, but merely dismissed lightly. As if in a mocking manner of his own, Warren copies the queens movements, and rests his chin atop his right knuckles as his elbow hits the table. " Same can go for your men stepping wrongly into my woods." The comment was matched by a stare from those harlequin eyes once again, this time simply to show the woman that he was serious in his statement as well. As it was almost snuffed out, the tension seems to build right back up. Warren owed this woman nothing, for she was not his queen, for only the wild held him in thrall.
Jacklin hadn’t earned the role from being a lesser creature. The lines riddling both eyes and mouth moved nary an inch, lids never flickering, and not even the mildest tone of recollection passed her face. In fact, Jacklin even went so far as stifle the laughter currently running a course upwards and towards the air. Fingers swiftly met her lips as the taunting chords were choked down with a more than notable clearing of throat, “My men have no need for beasts in the forest. And if they did step, I assure you each would return.” It was a known fact that Jacklin had prided herself on the Larket army since the moment she came into power. During her first years, the town hadn’t much money or bodies for that matter. And so with the stubborn pride she always carried, the Executioner had trained each and every man on her own. Day and night they fought on the field, Jacklin never missing a beat, and now holding the most powerful army in her reigns. For that, the queen was proud. None could take away something like that. “But I didn’t come to this table to dig a new grave. I simply wished to see a new face, find a title, and store it for memory. If you wish to be alone with your wolf then I’ll return to the table. It appears there is nothing to speak it between a ranger and warrior.”
Warren cannot help it, he liked this one, but wouldn't show it for any amount of gold in the lands. " Pride has a way of making fools of even the nobelest of people, so if I offend, please forgive me. " The ranger lets this settle before saying. " I often travel alone, and as the pride you have for your kingdom is apparent, so is to my pride in how I protect those bourders." Indeed, for the past several years the ranger has stalked the woodland bourders of Sage and Larket, fighting off packs of fermin, to preklek scouting parties. That area was his home, and he cared for it a great deal. Perhaps it was to do with his parents, both now deceased. His father was the sherriff of Larket, many years ago, while his mother lived within the woods along with the elves as a druid. It seemed the ties they had were infused into the ranger's being, for he cared for both Larket and Sage a great deal. The wolf, upon hearing it being called out, gives off a slight snarl, though it is more out of annoyance than any threatening manner.
Jacklin dropped gaze to where the wolf sat snarling, but attention returned to Warren once nothing troubling had been found. “Well, if you have taken it upon yourself to act as sentry for a forest than you must be fairly proficient in archery, right? I’ve very little knowledge on bows and things of that nature as I am a brawler, but it a useful body in a military organization. My arrival in Larket led to the hiring of archery trainers from beyond the shores of Hollow. I wanted the best, and I got the best by force and gold. Now they’ve left the shores of Hollow for their own homes. Now my General goes by the name of Parsithius. A warrior, as I am, but in his youth. Sadly he isn’t as versed in bows as I would have liked…but no man can master all.”
Warren eyes the queen as she states her claims. " So you'd wish me to train your men?" The ranger ponders such a thought, recalling the poor aim and even poorer stealth that her men showed in the woods. By sven they needed help, and it was Larket's benefit. " Or was I mistaken?'
Jacklin took a deeper drain from the flask still residing in her hand, its metallic face so faded and grim as to be a twin of Jacklin’s own expression. Fingers untangled from one another as a hand again turned, the back pressing against her forehead to rid it of the perspiration beads glistening there beneath the dim light pouring in from the windows. It was quite hot in a suit of armor when the breeze of the Cenril port remained outside, “My men are trained,” she nearly spat in the face of Warren. It was true, her men had been trained by the archers a good time ago, but the Executioner didn’t want to acknowledge any weakness within her military. Allowing the ranger a cordial dip of head she continues on with a much easier language, “We will not say train, ranger. I wish for you to act as the archery…commander. You’ll help tighten the skills of Larket’s archers and hopefully provide them with new skills that their queen and general cannot. I’d first like you to meet with the spoken general, Parsithius, before any further action is made. He is over the military, after all, and I see no reason he would have doubts for you. Tell him that his queen finds your company very pleasing.” Touching finger to chestnut cranium she continues, “He has yellow hair and armored at all times. Hard to miss him. Would this please you?”
Warren said to Jacklin: If it aids Larket in anyway, then yes. I shall meet with him as soon as I can, does this please you?
Jacklin lifts from her seating with the aid of pressed palms against the tabletop, “It does indeed. Send word to Parsithius by letter and I’ll also inform him if need be. But the Knight will hopefully be quick to meet with you on the matter. Until then, ranger, I wish you a fine day.”
Warren said to Jacklin: And I the same to you, warrior. I also enjoyed your company, as brief as it was.
Jacklin offers the ranger a wave of fingers before departing from the bar.
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