Insufficient Grounds (Zandelia)

by **Lusa** on March 10th, 2012, 9:48 pm

Lusa filed away the information that Zandelia gave her. It was a home or a camp, not a den, among humans. But she was sure that she had heard that thieves lived in dens... She set aside that thought for later, since now didn't seem like a good time to ask Zandelia the difference. Grinning happily at Zandelia's affection, Lusa took the vegetables and situated them at the top of her pack, where they wouldn't be squished. She would analyze them later, to learn how they were cooked and seasoned.

Lusa was happy that she'd found a human to follow. It was in her nature, after all, though she didn't know it. Zandelia had been looking at Lusa the way Lusa had looked at a small puzzle box she'd had as a baby, and Lusa was quite glad to be a fun puzzle for her new friend. Of course, Lusa knew that she was different from the humans and other species around her in Sunberth, but had no idea that it might have caused her trouble.

Lusa did, however, have enough smarts to wonder why Zandelia was being so nice to her, when all of Sunberth's other citizens had been quite content to sneer at her, shove her, or preferably ignore her. She wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth, though (an expression she'd picked up in her time here.)

"I'm sure I'll like it, if it smells any better than the tavern." She commented. "And an uncomfortable safe place is always better than a dangerous, comfy one!"

Still unused to the hustle and bustle of the city, Lusa had not yet learned to distinguish the sound of unfriendly footsteps from those of the average passerby. And so, she had only a moment to cry out before the slaver struck the back of Zandelia's head with the pommel of his sword.

by **Zandelia** on March 10th, 2012, 11:45 pm

True to form it was Zandelia’s sense of the upcoming threat of bad luck that was proven to be the reality, an occurrence she was beginning to grow all too tired of now. The only warning she received was the rush of heavy footsteps upon mud, squelching and slapping as water was displaced by a number of feet – closing in swiftly and without a single word. They were professionals indeed she realized, just as she turned in a bid to mount a last ditch defense. She had no time even to get a curse from her lips, to slip a single tonfa from its sheath, before the hard thud of metal impacted upon her skull, resonating through her head and flinging her to the ground with a sickening slap.

“Run…Lusa” she tried to get out of her lips but was doomed to be silenced by a boot to her back, forcing her into the mud, causing it to flood her mouth and nostrils briefly.

The world was darkened considerably as her less than fantastic vision blurred, her lids closing to protect their soft orbs. He could hear Lusa being snatched away, her shrill voice caught up in a horrified tone as it seemed to fade with each second Zandelia was upon the floor. She received a good kick or two to her ribs from her attackers for good measure, not so much to damage as they were not altogether too hard upon her torso, but more to make sure she had been delivered the message to stay down and leave it that that. The slavers had what they wanted now and were retreating. Zandelia pushed herself up from the floor, spitting filth form her mouth and rubbing her forearm across her face as she tried to get a sense of her direction, staggering half-blindly towards what she hoped was the Crimson Edge camp.

And I’m petching angry! she shouted internally as she all but fell into the camp and rolled a few times before being able to right herself again.

“Mok! Cade! Where the petch are either of you bastards when I need you?” she shouted across the camp, he voice ringing out in desperation even above the building work that was intermittently progressing.

She fell again, this time sideways and almost into a tent before managing to right herself and stumble back out into the open, wiping her eyes clear as much as she could, as quickly as she could. Time was of the essence if she wanted both vengeance and Lusa, and she would be damned before she would let her be taken as a sex slave this day. Finally she managed to bet a clear vision, her chest heaving as her breathing sought to correct itself underneath the bruising she was sure was flowering there. She was still very much disorientated from the blow to her head, however she managed to finally spy Mok and half-ran, half-shuffled towards him. At the end she almost flew into him after tripping upon some strewn refuse of the working, slamming into his large form.

“Mok…girl….little….slavers…jumped me…took….need….help” she managed to get out in between breaths as she pointed her hand back towards the entrance she had come from.

“Quick!” she all but demanded as now nausea began to filter its way through her body.

by **Mok** on March 13th, 2012, 9:44 pm

Mok was petching pissed. He was pissed at the world. He was pissed at the gods. Pissed at the good people of Sunberth. Hell, he was pissed at EVERYONE except himself!

The problem was that he had misplaced his tiger Roarer. Everything in his life was collapsing on him now. The myrian started to despair. The darkness in his heart was useless in this situation. He could not fight and power his way through this problem. No. If he had lost his most sacred possession, then there would be nothing he could do about it. Nothing. This angered Mok deeply. The myrian was in blind furry. His eyes saw red!

Releasing a cry of despair and hopelessness, Mok began to go through the Crimson's camp site with frothing anger. He cared not of his friends belongings; frantically he searched through the tents, throwing every object out! He would not miss anything. This search would be as thorough as it was quick.

Mok moved like lightning, leaving no stone unturned. But he still could not find the tiger Roarer. Rage filled his chest so tight; all he could do was scream at the top of his lungs, "No, no, no, no! Fucking no! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuuck, fuuu~cking no!"

The myrian then began to cry. Tears rolled down his eyes. Dread and anger filled his mind. He did not know what to do next. His whole life was put on pause. He had no orientation or direction anymore. Only pure kinetic anger. Pure and uncorrupted hate. It was a new adrenaline high for Mok. It was a new level of berserk.

Grabbing a strong branch from the wood pile, Mok began to whack the hell out of everything. Trees, stones, tents...you name it. There was no turning back now. Someone would pay the price for losing his tiger Roarer. The branch was not enough. He needed to feel it in his knuckles as well. He wanted to feel the anger leave his very bones.

Picking up a stone, Mok chucked it at a tree. Then another one, this time bigger. Still not enough though. Mok flung still another one. Next, he rushed the tree and began to punch the shit out of it. Over and over and over, the half-blood slammed his curled fist into the bark.

Mok almost went for a stone mallet to start wrecking shit up, but Zandelia stormed into the camp bruised and broken. She was winded, but able to communicate effectively.

She needed help and Mok would help her no questions asked. As a full-fledged sister of the Crimson Edge, Mok had the duty to help her. Mok would never leave a blood sister in trouble. Never! No words no questions, just actions. With the Crimson, until the bitter end.

"Let's go," was all he said. His voice was full of pain and insane despair. His heart was still white with fury and he was still crying.

Red = Myrian
Bold = Common

by **Archelon** on March 24th, 2012, 5:35 pm

Thread Award

"..."

And the Results!!!!:

Lusa :

Zandelia :

Mok :

Would you like some extra turtle sauce ? :