Setting
The largest gypsy clan this side of Terra, the Mistwood gypsy camp is a bustling place of activity and cheer. Though beneath the backdrop of color and prosperity lays something far more sinister. The Cursed Wood. Both superstitious and wary of strangers, these gypsy outcasts have long learned to take care of themselves.
However, outsiders often believe that this clan's deviations from their ancestral ways brought about their blight. Dubbed 'Cursed' by their compatriots, few other gypsy clans will mingle with the gypsies of Mistwood.
The Mistwood Gypsy Clan serves as a haven for other individuals of like mind. Outcasts of the gypsy people who have carved out a name for themselves despite their unorthodox ways.
However, outsiders often believe that this clan's deviations from their ancestral ways brought about their blight. Dubbed 'Cursed' by their compatriots, few other gypsy clans will mingle with the gypsies of Mistwood.
The Mistwood Gypsy Clan serves as a haven for other individuals of like mind. Outcasts of the gypsy people who have carved out a name for themselves despite their unorthodox ways.
Gypsy Camp
The largest gypsy clan this side of Terra, the [url=http://www.roleplaygateway.com/roleplay/the-multiverse/groups/the-mistwood-gypsy-clan ]Mistwood gypsy[/url] camp is a bustling place of activity and cheer. Though beneath the backdrop of color and prosperity lays something far more sinister. The Cursed Wood. Both superstitious and wary of strangers, these gypsy outcasts have long learned to take care of themselves.
Minimap
northwest |
north |
northeast |
west |
You are here. |
east |
southwest |
south |
southeast |
Gypsy Camp is a part of 
Cursed Wood.
9 Characters Here
Ileana Nicolae [28]
Ciara Corrigan [20] Free spirited and rebellious, Ciara lives by her own rules.
.Cassier Corrigan [10]
Aloix Hikari [1]
Crystalline Sprite [1] This great rarity flickers and glimmers in the sunlight.
Kyre Syme [1] Winged, flying like a bat out of hell, without a care in the world
Manami M. [1]
PO-WD [0] A middle sized robot designed to mount and carry offense. He can take reasonable punishment, and can dish out rather large amounts of damage in return with ranged or close combat. Very chivalrous.
Kenji Tatsuya Shen-Ryu [0] "This is the life we chose."
Start Character Here »
1 NPCs Here
“Here,” Ileana said as she opened the box and offered it across to Gabriella. Inside was an assortment of vials, and surgical needles. Each vial had a small dose of what appeared to be a sickly greenish brown liquid.
“You need to take this once a day. You can drink it, or-” she paused, indicating the needles. “The side effects of injection into the blood stream aren't as bad as ingesting it, but it's far more dangerous. The success rate is higher though, if it doesn't kill you.”
She didn't clarify on what success rate she was referring to.
“You need to take this once a day. You can drink it, or-” she paused, indicating the needles. “The side effects of injection into the blood stream aren't as bad as ingesting it, but it's far more dangerous. The success rate is higher though, if it doesn't kill you.”
She didn't clarify on what success rate she was referring to.
Gabby stared for several moments before she placed her hands at her sides and lifted her upper half. That made her head swim, but she was determined to stay upright. "In a minute," she said, eyes dropping so she could look down to her toes, which she wriggled. Just making sure everything was in working order. She'd been here before.
"Where're my weapons?" she asked. She'd paid a pretty penny for those boltguns, but she had bigger concerns. She was attacked by an unknown werewolf that was definitely female. Now an unknown woman was offering her syringes of unknown liquid. In Gabriella's mind, Ileana was the wolf, and showing remorse for her more violent sides actions.
She was going to try to remain detached. It was always harder to kill something you gave a damn about.
"Where're my weapons?" she asked. She'd paid a pretty penny for those boltguns, but she had bigger concerns. She was attacked by an unknown werewolf that was definitely female. Now an unknown woman was offering her syringes of unknown liquid. In Gabriella's mind, Ileana was the wolf, and showing remorse for her more violent sides actions.
She was going to try to remain detached. It was always harder to kill something you gave a damn about.
“Everything that was on you is under the bed,” Ileana explained.
Setting the box down on the bed beside Gabriella, Ileana studied her a moment. “The sooner you take that, the better. I'll leave you to get dressed.”
Turning away, Ileana returned to her earlier seat, and the grinding of herbs with a low sigh. Her supply of wolfsbane was running alarmingly low, but she couldn't just put the woman out either.
Setting the box down on the bed beside Gabriella, Ileana studied her a moment. “The sooner you take that, the better. I'll leave you to get dressed.”
Turning away, Ileana returned to her earlier seat, and the grinding of herbs with a low sigh. Her supply of wolfsbane was running alarmingly low, but she couldn't just put the woman out either.
Gabriella let out a small sound, something akin to a groan, then slowly sat upright, legs off the side of the bench. What the hell was the stuff the woman was trying to push so hard? Everything that was on her, huh? Getting to her feet, she crouched down to look. Oh great. Clips. Nothing but fucking clips.
With her good arm, Gabby reached for the silver clip and the lightning clip. Might as well make the most of a bad situation. Once dressed, she went to examine the concoction. Removing the lid, she took a sniff, then dipped a finger in to get the smallest sample, before spitting. What the hell was this?
With her good arm, Gabby reached for the silver clip and the lightning clip. Might as well make the most of a bad situation. Once dressed, she went to examine the concoction. Removing the lid, she took a sniff, then dipped a finger in to get the smallest sample, before spitting. What the hell was this?
Ileana didn't seem too alarmed at Gabriella's reaction, for she didn't look over from her work. Though she did offer an answer to what was likely on Gabriella's mind, given her reaction.
“It's a gypsy remedy, concocted from wolfsbane. It will make you very ill, but the alternative isn't much of an alternative.”
“It's a gypsy remedy, concocted from wolfsbane. It will make you very ill, but the alternative isn't much of an alternative.”
Wolfsbane? Oh shit. You didn't get wolfsbane for no reason. "I got bit," she stated. There was a degree of acceptance in her voice, hand tightening on the syringe. Her other hand, on her injured arm, reached to take one of the bolts out. If nothing else, she might get rid of one furry fucker today. "So who was the biter?" The implication was clear, as was the threatening tone beneath it.
“I couldn't tell you. My people keep to ourselves. What goes on beyond our borders is taboo to even speak about. You're fortunate to be alive,” Ileana explained.
Though that begged the question of how Ileana found her, or what Ileana was doing in the woods at all. “I don't have enough wolfsbane to make more of that for you. You should come see me again in two weeks, I should have more by then,” Ileana added. It was so very difficult to come by the stuff this time of year.
Though that begged the question of how Ileana found her, or what Ileana was doing in the woods at all. “I don't have enough wolfsbane to make more of that for you. You should come see me again in two weeks, I should have more by then,” Ileana added. It was so very difficult to come by the stuff this time of year.
The bolt was held in a reverse grip, as if Gabby intended to bring it down on the woman. "I'll drink it in a minute," she said quietly, "But why does someone carry so much wolfsbane."
She stepped closer, body groaning in pain. "Let me cut to the chase. Were you the wolf? Are you a wolf?"
She stepped closer, body groaning in pain. "Let me cut to the chase. Were you the wolf? Are you a wolf?"
“You hunter sorts that come through here are all the same,” Ileana said softly. “If you think I am, then go ahead and strike me down. Silver I imagine?” she asked. Apparently the gypsy woman was more perceptive than she appeared, despite lacking an eye and being engrossed in her work. “Just remember who brought you here. And can you live with yourself if you're mistaken?”
Truth be told, she had little to defend herself with, should Gabriella attack her here and now. About all she had at her disposal was appealing to Gabriella's better nature, and the debt incurred by the saving of a life. A concept she was not sure that Gabriella understood.
Truth be told, she had little to defend herself with, should Gabriella attack her here and now. About all she had at her disposal was appealing to Gabriella's better nature, and the debt incurred by the saving of a life. A concept she was not sure that Gabriella understood.
Gabby's better nature was a greatly misinterpreted phenomenon. For a start, it existed only on the bare edges of humanity. "You carry enough wolfsbane to put down a wolf, but you don't have tools for hunting. You have scars on your face yet you don't seem to be having any trouble seeing me. I'm sorry."
And with that, she raised the bolt, only to drop it and let out a cry of pain. That nearly put her f***ing arm out! She was fortunate to have had the bolt in that arm instead of the other, otherwise she would have dropped the cure. Then she would have been in real shit.
And with that, she raised the bolt, only to drop it and let out a cry of pain. That nearly put her f***ing arm out! She was fortunate to have had the bolt in that arm instead of the other, otherwise she would have dropped the cure. Then she would have been in real shit.
The bolt clattered loudly against the floor, but still Ileana didn't rise. If anything she seemed more sad than angry, or even afraid. “My people are a peaceful people. Go to any gypsy here, and they'll have wolfsbane. When you live where we do, you learn to protect yourself from what prowl the night. But that doesn't make us hunters.”
"Y'know what," Gabby said, retreating towards the bed, "I think I've made a point enough that when you go werewolf you'll pick a fight with me first." She'd kill them then. Yeah. Until then... "I'm just gonna take this and get out of your hair." And with that, she downed the liquid.
Dawn was just beginning to break over the horizon and the gypsy camp was beginning to rouse from its slumber. In the main camp the early risers were already out, preparing for the days work and seeing to the horses, though the chill bite of the air had the majority still inside, as was the case with Ileana. Not that the cold particularly bothered her, but she found it helped to ease her clansmen if she at least pretended normalcy.
As it stood, her vardo was located well outside the protection of the main camp, segregated off and shunned as cursed, like herself. Various talismans and wards hung about the wagon, but as with most superstition, the results were frequently ineffective or based off falsehoods. Though, that's not to say that all gypsy 'magic' was ineffective, but the trinkets likely would do little to dissuade an intruder, nor to aid the woman inside with her particular ailment.
The vardo itself was very small, though ornately furnished with vibrant fabrics and colorful paints. It appeared designed to house only a single individual and a single horse was tethered to a nearby post. Within it, Ileana was at work over a mortar grinding up the stems and leaves of the toxic wolfsbane she kept supplied. It was difficult to come by this time of year, and her supply was rapidly waning she noted with concern. Unfortunately, the alternative was simply not an option.
As it stood, her vardo was located well outside the protection of the main camp, segregated off and shunned as cursed, like herself. Various talismans and wards hung about the wagon, but as with most superstition, the results were frequently ineffective or based off falsehoods. Though, that's not to say that all gypsy 'magic' was ineffective, but the trinkets likely would do little to dissuade an intruder, nor to aid the woman inside with her particular ailment.
The vardo itself was very small, though ornately furnished with vibrant fabrics and colorful paints. It appeared designed to house only a single individual and a single horse was tethered to a nearby post. Within it, Ileana was at work over a mortar grinding up the stems and leaves of the toxic wolfsbane she kept supplied. It was difficult to come by this time of year, and her supply was rapidly waning she noted with concern. Unfortunately, the alternative was simply not an option.
Mahdi stopped when the gypsy camp came into view. Sunlight had just begun filtering through the woods, dappling the distance with the bright fabrics hanging on the vardos. It was early in the day. What few people he saw were still stumbling through the camp with just-woken disorientation. Though the wind was not chill to his skin, Mahdi tugged his heavy coat tighter around his shoulders and buried the lower half of his face into the grey scarf wrapped around his neck. Beneath the bleakly-dyed layers he was sweltering but he suspected things might go smoother if they thought him nothing more than a wanderer. The rumours he had heard were troubling.
Word had spread earlier in the month about trouble in the woods. Wild beasts attacking men who strayed too deep at night. Mahdi listened; the signs were familiar. Sure enough the talk turned to a man-beast, a halfbreed between a human and a monster. It had killed, the rumours whispered. Then came the more troubling rumours. The gypsies were attempted to craft a cure. They had begun testing. Mahdi had seen the results of such things before. He had never seen success. He feared that the gypsies did not understand the curse that was upon them. He found it oddly ironic. Whatever the truth to the rumours was, he could wait no longer to find out. A feral wolf could not be allowed to roam free, it drew too much attention to the others. Those like himself. Then there was the gypsies. They, he would have to watch. Too often cures became compulsory. Lethal.
Mahdi felt cold. It had little to do with the wind, though. He trudged onwards, nearing the awakening camp.
Word had spread earlier in the month about trouble in the woods. Wild beasts attacking men who strayed too deep at night. Mahdi listened; the signs were familiar. Sure enough the talk turned to a man-beast, a halfbreed between a human and a monster. It had killed, the rumours whispered. Then came the more troubling rumours. The gypsies were attempted to craft a cure. They had begun testing. Mahdi had seen the results of such things before. He had never seen success. He feared that the gypsies did not understand the curse that was upon them. He found it oddly ironic. Whatever the truth to the rumours was, he could wait no longer to find out. A feral wolf could not be allowed to roam free, it drew too much attention to the others. Those like himself. Then there was the gypsies. They, he would have to watch. Too often cures became compulsory. Lethal.
Mahdi felt cold. It had little to do with the wind, though. He trudged onwards, nearing the awakening camp.
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Mahdi's approach was met with distrustful glances and stares from the few men and women who were outdoors, but none made to speak with him. Even the animals seemed to pick up on the tension and the horses snorted restlessly.
Living at the borders of Mistwood, which had been more aptly nicknamed the Cursed Wood, had hardened them to strangers. One could never tell when a friendly face would turn wolfish by the moonlight, or that pale sickly man seeking shelter for the day would bleed your family dry come sunset.
No, strangers were not well received around here. At least not by most. Some of the younger ones were less rigid, less tied up by superstition and tradition. Unfortunately there didn't seem to be any of those sort hanging about at the moment.
Living at the borders of Mistwood, which had been more aptly nicknamed the Cursed Wood, had hardened them to strangers. One could never tell when a friendly face would turn wolfish by the moonlight, or that pale sickly man seeking shelter for the day would bleed your family dry come sunset.
No, strangers were not well received around here. At least not by most. Some of the younger ones were less rigid, less tied up by superstition and tradition. Unfortunately there didn't seem to be any of those sort hanging about at the moment.
Mahdi's eyes were met with cold glances. Even those were sparing; most simply busied themselves on the other side of the camp. He caught sight of a few children peering from behind the edge of a curtain, only to disappear as quickly as they had come. A horse whinnied as he passed it; either it too felt the atmosphere or it could smell his scent, swaddled as it was beneath his clothing. Animals always knew, somehow. The camp was large; disorganized to his eyes. All he had to work on was a rumour, and even that was just a rumour of another. He slipped his scarf beneath his chin and sniffed the air delicately. Woodsmoke, drifting slowly from the other end of the camp. No doubt in preparation for breakfast. A faint waft of perfume permeating the stronger smell of sweat and horse. Over it all he could smell the overbearing stink of the Cursed Wood. True to name, the smell did not please. He covered his face again, partly to obscure his features, but mostly to blot out the smell of the woods. He turned towards the smell of smoke and continued walking. Perhaps there he would find more people. Perhaps they would talk.
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The general warmth of his arrival did not improve as he continued on his way, and in some instances individuals stopped to whisper in hushed tones as he passed.
However, one young gypsy woman took notice, a scowl on her face. The scowl wasn't for Mahdi though, but rather she cast her ire in the direction of her clansmen. The look was returned ten fold by them though, as she opted to approach the man. Her dark hair was tied up in colorful ribbons and though layered heavily, her clothes held a vibrant appeal to them that reflected the woman’s free-spirited demeanor.
“Pardon my kinsmen, they're understandably wary of strangers. What brings you here?” the young woman inquired.
However, one young gypsy woman took notice, a scowl on her face. The scowl wasn't for Mahdi though, but rather she cast her ire in the direction of her clansmen. The look was returned ten fold by them though, as she opted to approach the man. Her dark hair was tied up in colorful ribbons and though layered heavily, her clothes held a vibrant appeal to them that reflected the woman’s free-spirited demeanor.
“Pardon my kinsmen, they're understandably wary of strangers. What brings you here?” the young woman inquired.
Mahdi studied the woman carefully. Her eyes were bright. He would trust her, he decided. Though a voice reminded him that he had little choice but to do so. Noone else had been forthcoming. He tugged his scarf away from his mouth and scratched his stubble. It was a pleasant feeling, one that relaxed his nerves.
"I take no offence." Despite his clear Middle East origins, his accent was vaguely European. A clear baritone. "I'm looking for someone. A friend of a friend. I have no name, my friend is vague, forgetful," he lifts his hands and gives a slight shrug of the shoulders, almost indistinguishable beneath the bulk of his cloak. "He tells me his friend is a quiet one, his friend does not keep so much company with the others, perhaps. The friend sells things, cures for ailments are the such, perhaps." He smiles apologetically, careful to keep his lips over the points of his canines. "I am as vague as my friend, I know. I must ask, though; do you know of such a person?"
"I take no offence." Despite his clear Middle East origins, his accent was vaguely European. A clear baritone. "I'm looking for someone. A friend of a friend. I have no name, my friend is vague, forgetful," he lifts his hands and gives a slight shrug of the shoulders, almost indistinguishable beneath the bulk of his cloak. "He tells me his friend is a quiet one, his friend does not keep so much company with the others, perhaps. The friend sells things, cures for ailments are the such, perhaps." He smiles apologetically, careful to keep his lips over the points of his canines. "I am as vague as my friend, I know. I must ask, though; do you know of such a person?"
Ciera listened to the man's roundabout inquiry with a raised brow and more than a touch of amusement. “Well, I think you probably just described just about every woman here,” she replied with a gesture of her thumb over her shoulder to indicate the less than receptive people that had gone back to their work.
“Though if it's ailments and cures you're looking for, you probably want to speak with the Shuvani. But... she's not here right now. She left more than a week ago, to see to some matters with an outbreak of Chesher Fever. We don't expect her back for at least another two weeks. Though...”
She hesitated. Even the more receptive gypsy woman seemed uncomfortable with where her train of thought had gone. “Is it urgent? I mean what it is you need help with?” she inquired, mistakenly assuming that the man was in search of herbal remedies more than the individual in question.
“Though if it's ailments and cures you're looking for, you probably want to speak with the Shuvani. But... she's not here right now. She left more than a week ago, to see to some matters with an outbreak of Chesher Fever. We don't expect her back for at least another two weeks. Though...”
She hesitated. Even the more receptive gypsy woman seemed uncomfortable with where her train of thought had gone. “Is it urgent? I mean what it is you need help with?” she inquired, mistakenly assuming that the man was in search of herbal remedies more than the individual in question.
Mahdi nodded, still pulling an apologetic face. If it was the women that sold the cures then he would start there. They might know where the rumours ended. Perhaps he would kill two birds with one stone. That would make a fine morning. He regarded the gypsy woman carefully then allowed his eyes to roa the camp beyond. It was still quiet; he saw few woman.
"My friend assures me that his friend will be here, still. He has heard word of her in recent days; too recent for her to have been gone so long." Mahdi paused, unsure of exactly how much he should say to the woman. A friendly face could quickly turn hostile when faced with a wolf in a mans body. She could even be one of those he sought; either a wolf in a womans body, or a woman who sold cures. He stared into her eyes, but today the windows to the soul gave no answers.
"Urgent? Yes. My friend said so. He would not say why. Embarrassed, perhaps, perhaps not. He is a... frivolous man, you might say. You might say he urgency is his problem. He hears of things that might help relax him. Herbs, plants. He tells me some. Opiets, dried roots, wolfsbane, powers and pills. The names are foreign to my mind. They do not come easy to my mouth." He shrugs again. Inside, he wonders if he has said too much.
"My friend assures me that his friend will be here, still. He has heard word of her in recent days; too recent for her to have been gone so long." Mahdi paused, unsure of exactly how much he should say to the woman. A friendly face could quickly turn hostile when faced with a wolf in a mans body. She could even be one of those he sought; either a wolf in a womans body, or a woman who sold cures. He stared into her eyes, but today the windows to the soul gave no answers.
"Urgent? Yes. My friend said so. He would not say why. Embarrassed, perhaps, perhaps not. He is a... frivolous man, you might say. You might say he urgency is his problem. He hears of things that might help relax him. Herbs, plants. He tells me some. Opiets, dried roots, wolfsbane, powers and pills. The names are foreign to my mind. They do not come easy to my mouth." He shrugs again. Inside, he wonders if he has said too much.
Ciara pursed her lips at the situation, but the man was an outsider. It was that which swayed her to send him to Ileana. None that knew of her ailment would be seen by her anymore, but if the stranger chose to...
“You could try that one,” Ciara offered, pointing to the eastern outskirts of the gypsy camp. A small lone vardo could be found there.
“Ileana. She used to study under the shuvani, but... well it's not my place to talk about it. She might be able to help you.” Though typically a smooth talker, something was off this day, and the gypsy woman's unease showed through. Perhaps it was in her pulse, or the shift of her eyes, or the unease in her hands. It was hard to place, but mention of Ileana troubled Ciara and someone with a keen eye for such things could pick up on it.
“You could try that one,” Ciara offered, pointing to the eastern outskirts of the gypsy camp. A small lone vardo could be found there.
“Ileana. She used to study under the shuvani, but... well it's not my place to talk about it. She might be able to help you.” Though typically a smooth talker, something was off this day, and the gypsy woman's unease showed through. Perhaps it was in her pulse, or the shift of her eyes, or the unease in her hands. It was hard to place, but mention of Ileana troubled Ciara and someone with a keen eye for such things could pick up on it.
Mahdi nodded. She was not fond of Ileana, he thought. Or perhaps she was afraid of the woman. The way she swallowed hard, how she glanced towards the relative safety of the western vardos suggested such to him. This Ileana would be a good place to start. If the rumours were true he would expect an outsider. He saw no greater outsider to this camp than the tiny vardo unceremoniously excluded from the safety of the others.
"Ileana." He tasted the word on his tongue.
"I owe you many thanks. As does, I would think, my urgent friend." He smiled, though the way he covered his lips made it no warmer than the last. "Does my young guide have a name?"
"Ileana." He tasted the word on his tongue.
"I owe you many thanks. As does, I would think, my urgent friend." He smiled, though the way he covered his lips made it no warmer than the last. "Does my young guide have a name?"
“Oh pardon my manners. I'm Ciara, Ciara Corrigan. I should get back to work though, I trust you can make it there on your own?” A smoothly spoken lie, but few of the gypsies would have much to do with Ileana.
“Good luck.”
With that, she was gone in a flutter of ribbons.
“Good luck.”
With that, she was gone in a flutter of ribbons.
Mahdi watched the woman go. She had not asked his name. She had not struck him as an impolite woman, nor unafraid of a stranger. It had been Ileana that had made her nervous. The woman, Ciara, disappeared behind the cover of some nearby vardos. His gaze lingered for a moment. Finally, it drifted back towards the small vardo.
Decided, he strode towards it. With his nose he probed the air freely; with his back to the fires and so few awake he doubted any would see the unusual behaviour. Perhaps young Ciara had been nervous enough to tell stories at the fires. Perhaps the nervousness would spread.
Mahdi quickened his pace.
As he neared the vardo his nose caught something. A strong smell. It was sweet but musty; not dissimilar to the smell of woodsmoke. That smell was behind him, though. This one was before him, and it smelt alive. Vaguely like paprika, he thought. When he reached the vardo he rapped one hand loudly, and rather brusquely, on the doors wooden panels.
Decided, he strode towards it. With his nose he probed the air freely; with his back to the fires and so few awake he doubted any would see the unusual behaviour. Perhaps young Ciara had been nervous enough to tell stories at the fires. Perhaps the nervousness would spread.
Mahdi quickened his pace.
As he neared the vardo his nose caught something. A strong smell. It was sweet but musty; not dissimilar to the smell of woodsmoke. That smell was behind him, though. This one was before him, and it smelt alive. Vaguely like paprika, he thought. When he reached the vardo he rapped one hand loudly, and rather brusquely, on the doors wooden panels.
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No sound came from within the vardo, though the horse tethered to its post stamped and snorted nervously at Mahdi's approach. The heavy scent of herbs hung in the air, but they were dominated by the fresh scent of wolfsbane.
Entrance into the abode would reveal a young woman upon the floor, thick locks of dark hair covering her face. Her normally earthen skin tone was almost ashen.
Atop a small cupboard pushed up against one wall was an open box with a wide assortment of vials and surgical needles. Though the more concerning element of the picture was probably the empty vial sitting beside the open box.
Entrance into the abode would reveal a young woman upon the floor, thick locks of dark hair covering her face. Her normally earthen skin tone was almost ashen.
Atop a small cupboard pushed up against one wall was an open box with a wide assortment of vials and surgical needles. Though the more concerning element of the picture was probably the empty vial sitting beside the open box.