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The Book of the Damned

The Book of the Damned

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A one on one rp for me and Anna

994 readers have visited The Book of the Damned since blackrider created it.

Introduction

“You stand accused of being a spy for the north! How do you plead!?” The judges thunderous voice boomed throughout the small court house followed by a series of loud clacking of wood on wood as he raised and lowered the gavel repeatedly in an unnecessary rage. The judge, who’s old age was clearly shown by the many wrinkles and alarmingly bald head, looked extremely frail as if a small wind could knock him over. His small beady coal black eyes were transfixed on a shabby looking man before him, the old judges eyes seemed as if they were looking at evil itself.

The poor man who found himself under the judges bone chilling gaze seemed unfazed by the accusation, and used to the hateful look of the judge. The man straightened, his solid frame resembled that of a soldier saluting-his stance sharp and crisp. His hair, unlike many of the blonde haired clean cut citizens who filled the old courthouse, was a dark black, and his eyes, also unique, were that of a dark green with specks of brown. His face, which was actually rough with cuts and grime, was covered in a large black beard that trailed to the midsection of his chest. Along with his long dark hair that reached down to his shoulders, which had begun to mat together due to little hygiene, the man looked as if he was straight out of prison-looking to be in his mid thirties, his torn up pants, grimy white shirt, and grey animal pelt vest didn’t make him look any better. Yet, still with the look of a poor beggar, the man carried himself with a certain pride and manner that demanded respect. “I, Sir, Am of no such thing.” His voice boomed, cool and calm, but at the same time angered by the accusation. The truth was, all he was was a simple mountain man, living right on the large treck of mountains which separated two Kingdoms whose war had gone on so long none even remembered the cause, but fights were constantly arisen due to pure malice and hate between the two great warring factions-the only incentive to fight was to kill.

Unfortunately for Flint, who was the bearded man standing trial, he was born and raised in the Northern Kingdom, Opening him up to extreme racism and bigotry in the Western Kingdom. That meant that this was already an open and shut case, which always resulted in one outcome, a nice thick rope tightened around the spy’s neck. “LIES! LIES! LIES!” The judge roared, practically jumping his small old frame out of the creaky chair he resided in, placing both palms on the large table with a loud thud, his beedy eyes seemed to grow with even more hate “You were found by the Royal Scouts of the King himself plotting secret paths through the mountains for your fellow Northern scum!” The Judge roared slowly sinking back into his chair all, coughing the whole way down. He grew quieter, wheezing heavily. Flint thought it sad that the old man had worn himself out from a mere short shouting spell, as for what the judge had said however, Flint was amused…because the truth was he was merely hunting deer when hed run into “the royal scouts”.

Flint began to speak a response, but was quickly cut off by the lightning crack of the gavel, it seemed the judge was in the mood to yell again, his beady eyes turning to smaller slits like they did every time he yelled. “I deem you guilty of the accused crime! The punishment is the same as is for all other spys!” The packed courtroom burst into cheers and whistling, “HANGING!” The Judge hollered over the mallet, which was currently repeatedly striking the ancient table.


Before Flint knew it he’d been drug out side, being led onto the gallows where so many men-innocent and guilty-had been taken unwillingly by the cold hands of death. The crowd, which had now grown, roared and jeered as the rope was fastened tightly around Flint’s neck. It all seemed unreal to Flint, here he was, one pull of a lever away from death, and yet he wasn’t afraid. The large masked executioner grasped onto the handle, which when pulled would drop the floor out from under Flints feat, if he was lucky his neck would snap….if he wasn’t….then the true horror started, as the crowd was treated to a poor soul kicking and flailing limply in the air like a rag doll until the life was slowly choked from him.

“Wait!” A young voice shouted from a distance, the sound of hooves scraping the cobbled streets approached as the voice grew louder. “Wait!” It proclaimed again, the horse plowing through the crowd. The large executioner looked up from the lever, the man on horse carried the kings emblem. “This prisoner is to be takein to the castle dungeons immediately, by direct order of the king himself!” The large executioners hand twitched, as if called by the lever which held Flints fate. “Buh e’s been provn ta be a spy” The Neanderthal of an executioner said, pure and simple he wanted blood. “You dare to question your king?” The young errant said, raising a slender eyebrow on his young face. His right hand slowly found its way to the hilt of his sword, as if dareing the executioner to try anything stupid. “Righ then!” The executioner boomed “Guards! Get up ere ye stupid gits!”

Now Flint was almost sure this was a dream, the events that had just taken place were far to far-fetched to have actually occurred. He desperately wanted someone to pinch him and wake him up, but the large guard who approached him did him one better, sinking his large muscular arm into Flints stomach, quickly sending him to his knees with an extremely loud ‘thud’. At first flint felt the searing pain in his stomach, and then his world was swallowed into darkness.



Flint awoke in a start, cold sweat rolled down his forehead and had covered much of his now damp shirt. He quickly looked around, ignoring the throbbing pain in his head “Where am I!?” He roared, echoing long down the cold damp hallways that lay before his cell. Gripping the iron bars, yelling like a mad man he began thrashing at the bars, as if trying to rip them from the cell wall. It was now that realization set in, remembering clearly the events that had lead to where he now was, in the dark cold cell, god knows how many feet underground, all because he was born in a different place. He sank down to his knees, despair taking over, who knew what would happen to him now. It was hear, kneeling on the cold stone floor, he finally noticed the second man standing in the cell, a long dark cloak hiding his features, and the main reason Flint had not seen him until this moment. Flint stared at the figure for a long moment, slowly arising with his fists clenched, he didn’t know if the man was a friend or foe.

“So I see you’ve finally noticed me, Sir. Aiden.” The figure said, taking a step forward. His voice was sly and sharp, and contained the hint of forced kindness. “Quite a fit you had there, isn’t it? Id hate to run into that on the battle field…” he said it as if hinting at something. “…Any how….Are you familiar with folk tales, Sir Aiden?” Flint was silent, anger growing in him, here he was in a cold dungeon accused of being a spy and left to rot, and his cell mate wanted to talk about fairy tails. “What are you talking about!?” Flint barked angrily, taking a step forward. The cloaked figure stepped back, but then thought better of it, regaining his lost ground. “Well…uhm…” He coughed nervously “What if I told you I could grant you your freedom?” The anger in Flint rose, going from talks of make believe to that of false hope. “And how do you propose that…” Flint grunted as he sank back to his knees, resting his back against the cold stone wall, this man was obviously a crazy. “Just receive a simple artifact for me! You’ve heard of the book! The book of the damned! The book of darkness! His book!” Flint knew of the tail, as did every child in their lands, he simply chuckled. “The book that the gods themselves banished because no man nor god could control its power!” Flint shouted, it was the last lines of the story. He began yelling again “Yes! Ill get the book for you! Just as soon as I rip these iron bars from their place, storm my way out of the castle weaponless, and journey into the mountains to wherever it is the gods hid the book to end all days!”

“Tsk tsk tsk, Sir Aiden” The cloaked figure said, pulling his hands upwards to his hood, slowly drawing it back. The site of the man made Flint jump to his feet, even though the darkness hid most of his features, Flint could still recognize the cold deep eyes anywhere. The main continued talking, unafraid that Flint was on his feet “To talk to a king with such sarcasm! Indeed they named you The Brave Aiden for good reason!”

This was the final straw for Flint, his face contorted in anger as he launched himself at the man, grabbing him by the scruff of his hooded cloak he threw the man into the dark stoned wall with a loud crash “And what’s to stop me from choking the life from such a great king!?” He roared, his large callused hands wrapping tightly around the fair skinned king, who only smiled up at Flint. “Your life…” he replied quietly, it was rather hard to speak with your wind pipe slowly closing in on itself. The anger in Flints eyes didn’t die but his grip slowly loosened, until it was non existent altogether. “Your serious?” Flint asked, still finding it hard to believe “You want me to find you…this book? And if I do…I can leave?” The King simply nodded “….And if I fail?” Flint asked, as if weighing his options. “Then you shall at least get to taste the fresh air one last time.” The king said with a smile, already knowing his answer. And Flint knew he couldn’t refuse, sure there’s no way he could find a make believe book, but he was sure if he got into the mountains he could easily slip away from whatever goon, and he was sure there’d be one, that the king sent to keep an eye on him. “Ill do it…” Flint grunted with disgust, he hated the man.

“Excellent!” The king exclaimed happily, as if Flint was happy to help. “Well we mustn’t keep your comrades waiting! Come come!” And like that the king was out of the cell, opening the large iron door with an extremely loud creaking noise, his feet raping against the cold cobble stoned hallways as he sped off. Flint nearly had to run to keep up with him, a large frown on his bearded face, it was like chasing after a child. The king lead him along the long cold halls of the dungeon, until finally taking him up a large flight of twisting stairs, which opened into somewhere deep within the castle. Flint wasn’t exactly sure, but he was sick of walking through the lavish palace after about fifteen minutes of having to walk on the dark red velvet that trailed throughout the castle halls, he hadn’t seen one window, and he hated being cooped up inside (nearly spending all of his time outdoors). He also hated the millions of pictures that must have hung on the dark stone walls, all of old kings or famous heroes who had slaughtered his people by the thousands. He wanted to set fire to the palace and watch as the damned thing burned to ash, a task he’d almost accomplished long ago. “Where are you taking me!?” Flint thundered, sick of everything surrounding him. But before he could finish his statement the king had vanished through a large wooden door, decorated with lavished carvings of some forgotten battle in a forgotten time, Flint quickly followed.

Flint now found himself in a large banquet hall, a long oak table spread out before him with various meats and fruits, some of which he’d never seen, it was the most food hed seen at one time however. Somehow the king had already made it to the end of the table, sitting in a large golden chair with a warm plate of food already awaiting him. Two large, and heavily armed, guards stood at each side of the king, spears raised high with a lifeless look across their faces. It was now that Flint realized guards like this stood everywhere in this room, hidden well next to large statues, or in the cover of opened doors (which were evenly spaced throughout the room) Flint walked towards the king, who beckoned him to sit next to him….instead Flint took an opposite seat, sitting at the very end of the table. “Eat my friend! Have your fill!” He answered the kings request by sending the nearest tray of, what appeared some strange fruit, clashing to the floor, sending the contents everywhere. “All you northerners are alike!” the king roared, jumping from his seat “ Barbarians! The lot of you!”

Flint to sprang from his seat, hearing the unsheathing of swords all around him he slowly sat back down, pure malice in his eyes as he looked at the king “Then let me be on my way! Give me my damned burdens and let me go!” Flint roared back at the king, referring to “burdens” as his comrades.

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For a brief moment Flint was completely taken aback, seemingly left speechless by Elizabeths response. Quickly recovering from his surprise he simply grunted in response, the ambiguous sound possibly meaning anything from agreement to an insult. He'd let Elizabeth decide what it meant for herself.

Hungrily he tore at the dried jerky, chewing the salted meat for a good minute or two again as silence once again enveloped the camp. Somewhere in the distance an owl let out a loud 'hoot' which broke through the night. “So Liz.” He abbreviated her name, as if they were both old friends. Hopefully she wouldn't mind. “Who taught you to fight? He nodded at the glimmering blade that lade in the leafy green grass next to Elizabeth “You seemed to handle your blade rather well. A skill from your father, perhaps?” He asked curiosity ripe in his voice, it also seemed as if he was trying to desperately change the subject from his previous foul up.

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Elizabeth Moore


Elizabeth doesn't say another word as he grunts in response to her miniature outburst, something she'd never done before. It was just that something about him. He can get under her skin so easily, especially when he criticizes her people. She eats her apple quietly, trying to forget about the insult. She glances back over at him as he speaks up again. Frown at the nickname. "Elizabeth," She corrects him. She doesn't let many people use nicknames when talking to her, just friends and family, and he's neither. She is quiet for a few moments, debating whether or not she should answer his question, not really wanting to reveal personal information about herself. 'Well, he'll be dead soon,' She thinks, figuring it's not like he could really tell anyone what she tells him.

"Yeah, my dad taught me." She says with a small nod of her head. "He was in the king's guard as well. He was one of the best." She says, a small smile tugging on her lip as she thinks about her father. "He started to teach me, as soon as I was strong enough to hold the sword up." She adds, glancing up at the sky, reminiscing. It's like as soon as she starts talking, she can't make herself stop. "He was killed, a couple years ago. By your people." She says, the hatred slipping into her voice. She shakes her head, quickly shaking the thoughts away. "He was a great man." She says, leaving it at that.

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Flint was genuinely saddened by Elizabeth's response about her father. He could easily tell by her voice that she had loved the man greatly, and he felt the hate that dripped from her words like venom when she spoke of his people being the reason her father had passed away. She spoke like he was the one the killed her. As she stared at him eating her apple Flint couldn’t help but think of how many lives he too had taken, the vast majority of them having been Southerners too. For all Flint knew he was the one who had killed Elizabeth's father.

Turning his attention back to his whittling for a moment as Elizabeth stared at the stars Flint seemed to ponder over what to say next. He also made a mental not to try his best to expressly refer to Elizabeth by her full name. “My people have a saying.” He began speaking again in between the strokes of his knife, his voice sounding much more thought filled-almost as if he was making an attempt to somewhat console Elizabeth. “The saying goes: 'A true child remembers the face of their father.' depending on who you ask the saying bears different meanings, but in my family I was raised to believe that it meant the best way to honor your father was to live by what he taught you. I can tell by your blade skill at least you've done well honoring him. He would probably be proud.” It was strange hearing Flint speak so heartfelt, and as if to purposefully ruin the moment he paused. even stopping his whittling as a toothy grin spread over his face he added. “Well, except for the whole protecting a Northerner. That might have upset him a bit.” The last sentence had his voice change to a much lighter, yet still gruff, tone. He was clearly trying to make a somewhat light hearted joke.

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Elizabeth Moore


Elizabeth keeps her eyes on the sky, looking at the stars as the gets her anger under control again. Once she's calmed herself down, she glances over at Flint, listening to his words. She smiles when he says her father would probably be proud of her. She nods her head, watching him as the grin spreads across his face. Not able to stop the laugh that escapes her lips at his lighthearted joke. "Yeah, you're probably right," She says with a nod of her head. She quickly finishes eating the apple, tossing the apple core away. She takes the blade out of her boot and lays it next to her sword as she lays down in her sleeping bag, her hands under her head as she stares up at the sky for a few moments. "Night, Flint." She says, rolling over onto her side, trying to get comfortable enough to fall to sleep.

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It had been quite a few hours before Flint had even attempted to sleep. Instead he'd spent most of the night whittling away at his stick which had finally begun to somewhat take a shape, all the while staring into the embers of the dying fire as his thoughts drifted to a farther off time. Most of the memories that danced around his head were rather bitter, from the dishonor he'd brought to his family to the love he'd lost long ago, even most of the good memories had bitter endings which left a sickening taste in his mouth. Finally sleep overtook him as Flint laid down atop his sleeping bag, not bothering to get inside the warm fur shelter it offered-he preferred sleeping out in the open air. As he drifted off to sleep he too stared up at the stars that lightly sparkled above him.

Waking with a start at the sound of broken branches and rustling of leaves Flint quickly halfway sprang up, a tomahawk already glistening dangerously in his right hand as he stared around the camp for signs of the possible intruder. That's when he spotted them, three fairly large creatures that seemingly stumbled blindly about ten feat from their campsite. The beasts stood at about five foot and were covered in murky gray looking scales, they walked upon their hind legs making loud hissing sounds as they went about. Their milky gray eyes stood out in the early sunlight as they stumbled ever closer to the camp, their large taloned appendages randomly slashing fiercely at the air accompanied by another loud hiss-it was almost as if the creatures themselves couldn’t see. Watching them for a moment Flint thought they somewhat resembled large dangerous looking lizards-he'd heard stories of such beasts that wandered the Southern forests but had never encountered one himself. That being said the stories he had heard of the creatures were almost on par with most horror stories, apparently their scaly hides were extremely hard to penetrate and normally took the lives of several men to bring down. Both Flint and Elizabeth had been extremely lucky the group of monsters hadn’t stumbled upon the pair in their sleep.

Cautiously making his way to the still sleeping Elizabeth, taking extra care to watch his footsteps as he walked as to avoid making noise, he reached her and knelt down closely. He silently hoped to himself that he wouldn’t startle the poor women to much when he awoke her, he was afterall quite a sight to wake up to-ecspecially with the tomahawk still clutched and at the ready.

Clasping his free hand over Elizabeth's mouth, who awoke immediately with a slight start, still grasping the tomahawk Flint pressed his right index finger against his lips as if to say 'shhh' before slowly taking his hand off of her mouth. The look on his face was deathly serious as he slowly nodded towards the beasts that were now blindly traipsing through their camp.

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Elizabeth Moore


Elizabeth had been sleeping peacefully for once, when she suddenly woken up by the feel of a hand covering her mouth. She's startled awake, her eyes wide as she looks up at Flint, seeing the Tomahawk in his hand. Automatically, her thoughts went to what she thought to be the worst case scenario. She had let her guard down, and now he's going to kill her and run off. But when she sees him motion for her to stay quiet, she realizes that it's something else entirely. When he takes his hand away from her mouth, she glances over at the beasts after he nods in their direction. Her eyes widen, never having seen these creatures before.

Elizabeth slowly gets to her feet, careful not to make any noise. She grabs her sword and her dagger up off the ground, her eyes locked on the creatures. She'd heard stories about them, but never really listened, assuming they were just that, stories. Stories told by old men who looking for a few more seconds of glory. She swallows hard, wishing now that she had listened to the stories. Glancing between Flint and the beasts, she's not sure what to do. Her heart is racing in her chest as she watches the beasts. They poke around their camp a few more moments, one of them coming across Elizabeth's apple core. The creature picks it up, eating it in the blink of an eye. They sniff around a little while longer before the start to move away from the camp. Elizabeth stays still not wanting to make a sound and draw the creatures attention back to them.

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Minutes passed which felt like hours to the ever ready Flint and Elizabeth, both clinging their weapons expecting a possible attack at any moment. Moments later and two of the creatures had wandered away from the campsite, quickly becoming lost in the constantly thickening forest that sprawled all around them. Unfortunately the one who had stumbled across the apple core had remained in the campsite, the way it lowered itself slightly to the ground taking deep loud snorts with its nose large snout like face told Flint the beast was looking for more food. The creature was now in arms reach from both Flint and Elizabeth, its large mouth hanging open exposing row after row of sharp jagged yellow teeth. The smell that lingered on the things breath made Flint want to vomit his jerky from the night before.

Approaching Flint the beast let out a few more loud 'snorts', apparently Flints lack of hygiene had finally paid off for the beast seemed to lose interest in him, turning its snout like face towards Elizabeth for more sniffing. Unfortunately Elizabeth must have smelt somewhat more appetizing for upon smelling her the monster let out a shrill shriek before standing at its full height, its snapping jaws lunging straight for Elizabeth's chest.

Instinct kicked in once again for Flint as he dove at Elizabeth, knocking himself and his companion onto the ground with a loud crash. Rolling off of Elizabeth Flint let his tomahawk fly at the beast with a strong right throw, only to see the blade bounce off of the creature as if it was nothing more then a thrown stone. If anything all the thrown tomahawk had done was anger the creature and alert it to where both Flint and Elizabeth lay. “Shit!” Flint barked while he fumbled pulling his second tomahawk from his belt as the monster began to charge again.

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Elizabeth Moore


Elizabeth kept extremely still as the beast kept rooting around for more food. As it moved closer to the two, she took a deep breath and held it, not wanting to give away their location, not that it helped. She's taken by surprise when Flint tackles her to the ground out of the way of the beast. Still finding it hard to believe that he would actually try to save her instead of letting her fend for herself. 'Now's not the time for that Elizabeth,' She tells herself as she glances around quickly, trying to come up with a plan. She looks up at the creature as it charges at them, almost reflexively she grabs her sword, pointing it at the creature. She positions it just right so that as the beast opens its mouth again, to try and bite her, she shoves her sword into his mouth, using all her strength to push it up through the roof of it's mouth. The creature lets out a loud, painful sounding screech. Elizabeth quickly pulls her sword out and stabs it back up into the creatures mouth again, trying to angle it so it will pierce the creature's brain.

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Flint watched as Elizabeth didn't hesitate to impale the beast through the mouth, only to withdraw her sword and once again sink it into the monsters mouth skewering its skull. It was apparent to Flint that Elizabeth had hit a rather vital spot, a feat that would have been nearly impossible with Flints simple Tomahawks. Watching the lizard like creature stumble around in pain like some kind of drunk Flint knew now was the time to finish the fight. The monster hissed and flailed wildly as a thick black looking blood gushed from its mouth, covering the ground in the sickening liquid.

The thing had blindly turned its back to both Elizabeth and Flint in its painful attempt to flee, and noticing the opportunity Flint didn’t hesitate to act. Returning his tomahawk to his belt he charged the thing from behind, wrapping both of his large muscular arms around the creature from behind forming an awkward looking 'full nelson'. With both of his arms keeping the giant lizards talon riddled hands from being able to swipe at anyone he struggled to hold the powerful beast in place. As sweat began to form on his brow from the struggle to keep the monster in place Flint desperately shouted towards his partner “Elizabeth! Strike it again!”

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Elizabeth Moore


Elizabeth watches as the creature attempts to flee, surprised when Flint jumps onto the creature's back. She quickly lunges at the creature again, stabbing it again, using all her strength. One more loud screech escapes the creature before it falls to the ground, it's dark blood pooling out around it. Once it's clear that the creature is dead, she moves away, scowling at the fowl smelling blood on her sword. She walks back over to her sleeping bag and starts to polish her sword again, cleaning the creature's blood off, letting Flint take care of the creature how ever he'd like.

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After the final blow Flint could feel the beasts body go limp within his arms, a final pathetic hiss escaping its sword filled mouth as Elizabeth withdrew her Blade. Throwing the monster to the ground with a loud 'thud' Flint let out a hearty laugh, the kind of laugh heard only by those who had just nearly escaped death, an almost hysterical yet joyous laugh.

Continuing to smile Flint immediately knelt down to the beast, his razor sharp boot knife clutched in one hand as he began sawing away at the creatures thick hide (it had takein all his strength and the weight of his entire body just to sink the blade through the tough scales). It seemed as if he was determined to take the creatures hide with him as some sort of trophy, or perhaps he had bigger ideas for it. “Tell me Liz, er, I mean Elizabeth. “ Flint began speaking in between the sawing motion he was making with his knife against the dead body. “How did you know to attack at the creatures mouth? Have you fought these fell things before?” His hands covered in blackened blood Flint continued skinning away. “You know, you probably saved my life there? Guess that’s just your job though, eh?” He spoke the last part somewhat disappointedly, as if he'd had realized that fact the same time he had said it.

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Elizabeth Moore


Elizabeth stays quiet as Flint talks, watching him saw at the creature's hide. She shakes her head at the mention of her saving his life. "No, you saved mine first. That thing was coming right at me." She says as she continues to clean her sword. "And honestly, I didn't know for sure. I just kind of guessed." She says with a small chuckle. "Observation is a really good skill. I could tell by the scales that the skin would be hard to pierce, and when it snapped at me the first time, I got the chance to see inside it's mouth. It didn't appear to be too protected. I mean, aside from the teeth." She says, running a hand through hair. "Just got lucky, I guess." She finishes with a small shrug of her shoulders

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“I didn’t mean to save you, well I did, but it was more instinct than anything, If that makes sense? I'm sure someone like you can understand that.” Standing up from the sickening mess of muscle and blood that now lay before him Flint clutched his newly claimed hide triumphantly, smiling at Elizabeth as he held it up as if to say 'look!', apparently Flint was quite the hunting enthusiast-or maybe he just liked animal hide? Either way his big white grin stood out boldly under his beard. “Well either way, thank the Gods for your luck, or observational skills. Honestly I didn't even think those things were entirely real.” Being rather covered in black blood Flint too returned to the sitting position. “Hungry?” He asked curiousley, still smiling. How anyone could be thinking of food while still covered in the sickening muck that littered most of his body was probably beyond Elizabeth.

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Elizabeth Moore


"Even so, if it wasn't for you, I'd be dead right now." Elizabeth says, keeping her eyes on her sword, not looking at him as she says it, hating to admit it. She glances up at him, as he shows her the hide, her nose crinkling in disgust at the skinned creature laying at Flint's feet, her stomach churning at the sight. She shakes her head quickly when he asks if she's hungry. "Maybe we should move on soon. I know I'm not going back to sleep tonight," She says, and honestly, she doesn't want to be looking at the creature any longer than absolutely necessary, knowing the sun should be coming up soon.

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With that Flint and Elizabeth packed up camp yet again and continued on their way, Flint insisting the whole time that he constantly carry the heavy rucksack that contained all their gear for the journey. The next few days had been rather uneventful as far as combat was concerned with Elizabeth and Flint journeying onwards. However durring the time a few noteable things had happened, such as Flint giving chase after a raccoon that had been unfortunate enough to cross their path-which Flint had chased after like a madman with his tomahawks clutched in both hands. After he had chased the poor creature up a tree Flint was still determined to get fresh dinner, about four attempts of climbing the tree later and a rather bruised and beaten Flint he had finally given up-Elizabeth almost in tears over laughing at him. He hated to admit it to himself but her uninhibited laughter made him rather happy on the inside, something that caused him to attempt to climb the tree another two times knowing he'd fail, just so he could hear her keep laughing. A day or two after the unfortunate racoon incident (theyd wound up eating jerky and fruit that night) Flint and Elizabeth's journey had led them to a rather large gray crumbly looking rock in a clearing of tree's, after the third time the two had passed the same rock Elizabeth finally pointed out to Flint that 'that was the same rock as before' a fact he furiously denied, not wanting to admit he had gotten them lost. They had apparently been walking in circles. After the fourth time they reached the same rock Flint had slightly admitted they were lost, and admittance to Flint was blaming Elizabeth, he constantly threw around the phrase 'your the southerner here!'.

A day later as night neared Flint's ears finally caught the sound of water-upon finding the source he knew the two were well back on track to reaching the mountains. A decently sized stream eventualy stretched before the two, the fading sunlight reflecting beautifully across its surface. Dropping his rucksack to the ground flint began rummaging through the large leather bag in an attempt to set up camp, a practice that had become common every night. Pulling the fine fur sleeping bag from the rucksack flint stood up, offering the rolled up sleeping bag to Elizabeth. As he did so he made a loud snorting noise with his nose. “You know, Mrs. Southerner. You've become rather smelly over the past few days. If I close my eyes I'd swear your an onion. You'd better watch out, you might start smelling like a dirty northerner soon.” Flint spoke to her in his gruff voice, everything he said obviously a complete joke-something the two had become more and more comfortable with over the past few days.

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Elizabeth Moore


Elizabeth is looking at her reflection in the creek, seeing how dirty and messed up her hair is. She glances over at Flint, frowning slightly at his words even though he's clearly joking. She's never gone this long without bathing and it's driving her insane. "Look who's talking!" She snaps, her eyes narrowed at Flint. "Well, I'm going to rectify that, right now." She says, as she lays out her sleeping bag. She goes over to her bag and finds some clothes that are nearly clean. "I'm going to bathe in the creek. If I catch you looking, I will gut you." She says, her voice even, no sign of joking in her voice.

Elizabeth walks over to the edge of the creek, glancing over her shoulder to make sure Flint's not looking before she starts to strip. She quickly gets undressed and slowly walks out into the creek, enjoying the feel of water on her skin for the first time in nearly a week. She groans slightly, enjoying the feel of the cool water. She ducks her head under the water, getting her hair wet, doing her best to keep her back to Flint in case he does happen to look over.

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Letting out a slight nervous laugh Flint immediately went about setting up a small fire for the night-he'd been gathering sticks for the last hour or two knowing they'd soon need to set up camp. “Well then don't plan on me comin to help when your inevitably attacked by some wierd creek monster. I plan on keeping my guts intact.” Flint called after her as Elizabeth approached. Honestly of all the customs that differed between their two people the Southerners obsession with constant bathing was one of the most confusing to Flint, he did have to admit though that it made the women look a little more...desirable? Sitting down atop his sleeping bag next to the fire that he had already gotten to crackle to life Flint couldn’t but help take a whiff of his armpit, almost causing him to cough as he gasped for fresh air in the process, perhaps constant bathing did have its benefits?

Being sure to keep his back to Elizabeth as not to invoke her wrath Flint pulled out a sharpening stone from his bag and one of his tomahawks from his belt, although actually sharpening the blade head was one of the farthest things from his mind. Instead he took his faithful weapon and tried to angle it just the right way to perhaps catch a glimpse of Elizabeth off its metallic surface all the while pretending to sharpen his weapon. To Flints dismay however the tomahawks surface only reflected the ever growing darkness, and to make it worse he'd been so focused on trying to catch the right angle that he'd slipped his hand holding the sharpening stone and slightly nicked his index finger. “Gods be damned!” Flint hurriedly cursed beneath his breathe.

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Elizabeth Moore


Elizabeth quickly finishes getting washed up, making her way out of the water. She grabs her clean clothes and quickly gets dressed. Walking over toward the campfire to warm up as she runs a hand through her damp hair. As she gets closer, she sees Flint's bleeding hand. "How did you manage that one?" She asks, wringing out her hair a little as she sits down by the fire. She glances at Flint's hand to get a better look at the damage, seeing it's just a slight nick. "You should be more careful." She says, but doesn't move to help him, figuring he can take care of the little nick on his own. "You know, it wouldn't hurt you to get cleaned up too." She adds, leaning back on her hands as she looks up at the sky. "In fact, it would probably help. You don't want that cut to get infected, do you?" She asks.

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At the mention of also getting cleaned up Flints eyes got a little wider, turning his head to stare at the creek he looked like a small child staring at the boogeyman. “Er....I bathed last month.” He said meekly as he tore a tiny piece of the bandage he'd bought for Elizabeths arm and began wrapping it around his finger. He wouldn’t dare admit it to her but he had been deathly afraid of running water ever sense he was a boy, he prayed she wouldn’t pick up on his fearful tone as he quickly tried to change the subject. “As for the cut I was...distracted?” He spoke the last part as if he was actually asking a question. All the while he spoke he couldn’t help but stare at Elizabeth, his eyes fixated on her wet blonde hair and freshly cleaned skin. Hopefully she wouldn’t notice that either.

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Elizabeth glances over at Flint, seeing his eyes widen as he glances toward the creek. "Last month!? Well, that would explain the odor." She says, a small smirk on her lips, but she decides not to push the issue, and not letting on that she noticed the look of fear on his face. She blushes slightly at his last comment. "Distracted by what?" she asks. She's pretty sure she knows, hoping it was something else though. "So, uh, What do we got left for dinner tonight?" She asks, glancing over at Flint's bag, knowing it's been a while since they left town, and not sure how much more food they have left.

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Forcing himself to tear his eyes off of Elizabeth Flint began to speak“Honestly? Not much...” he completely ignored her prior question in fear of what ridiculous answer he'd make up. Rooting around in the large bag for a moment Flint pulled out a smaller cloth looking pouch, which he began to unravel infront of Elizabeth on the grassy ground surrounding them. After a moment of struggling to untie the bag he finally succeeded (his bloody finger hadn’t helped), spreading the cloth in front of each of them its contents were revealed-a small handful of dried jerky and two oranges. “Take your pick Liz.” He said casually, getting her name wrong yet again. “If someone didn’t traipse through the forest like a drunken giant wed still be feasting on fresh racoon. I swear it seams like you intentionally step on every tree branch in your path.” he’d added the last part, apparently Flint still not over his botched attempt to catch dinner a day prior.

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Elizabeth Moore


Elizabeth looks over at the contents on cloth. She reaches out and picks up one of the oranges, starting to eat it. She scoffs at his comment about her 'traipsing through the forest like a drunken giant.' "Maybe you're just not a good hunter," She says, a small scowl on her lips as she turns her attention back to the fire as she eats her orange. Once she's done, she grabs her sword and starts to polish it again. "I mean, you haven't killed a single thing since we've been in the forest." She says, a small smirk on her lips, teasing him.

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Flint grinned in return to Elizabeth as he helped himself to a small handful of jerky, having never touched a piece of fruit yet he seemed to favor the meat. “What?!” He barked in mock anger “You seem to have forgotten when I valiantly killed that giant lizard saving both our lives!” He jokingly spat at her, apparently purposefully mixing up the events of how that battle had taken place. As he spoke about the lizard it seemed to remind him of something as he quickly began rummaging through his bag like he did almost nightly. Apparently he'd found what he was looking for as he pulled out the lizard hide from almost a week ago. Every few nights he'd been cutting and sowing various points of the nearly impenetrable scales. At first Elizabeth had mocked his sowing skills, asking Flint if he 'was sure he wasn’t actually a woman'. A few semi friendly jabs at each other later and curiosity had gotten the better of her, it had become almost a nightly event of her trying to get Flint to tell her what he was making-something Flint constantly refused with a smile on his face.

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Elizabeth Moore


Elizabeth rolls her eyes as Flint purposely mixes up the events of who actually killed the lizard. "Yeah, ok. That's not how I remember it." She says, sticking her tongue out at him with a small giggle. She raises a curious eyebrow as he pulls the lizard thing's hide out of his bag. Running a hand through her hair she slowly moves closer to Flint, looking over his shoulder as he works on the hide. She leans closer, her damp hair brushing against Flint's shoulder as she leans over him. "So, what is it?" She asks for the umpteenth time, hoping that if she annoys him enough he'll break down and tell her.

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Laughing openly at Elizabeth's comment over the lizard Flint quickly responded. “Well, my father always did say you Southerners had memory problems. Guess he was right.” As he finished speaking Elizabeth's chilly wet hair brushed Flint across his exposed shoulder causing a slight chill to run down his spine, something he convinced himself was simply the cold reacting to his skin. “Like I say every night, you'll see when I'm done! I swear, your curiosity is worse then a childs.” Flint added as he continued working away with Elizabeth still watching over his shoulder, eventually he spoke up again. “I'll make you a deal Mrs. Nozy. You finally tell me why your so obsessed with that damned blade and I might, just maybe, tell you what I'm actually making. I think I've seen you polish the thing almost twice a day sense we've set off together.”

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