Closed [Guest ST][Shiress] Without a Quicker Blood

[Philomena]

Lona looked had at the girl, but said nothing, tightening her bonds to a professional, but not a cruel tautness, and lower her with bony-strong arms into the trapdoor. The sound of shuffling rope revealed her doing the same to Shiress's companion, something confirmed a moment later when the Shiress felt the limp warmth of Hadyn's body lower down beside her. The lid swung shut over them, and an argument occurred, hard to discern between the two kidnappers. Finally the heavier footsteps of the man clomped over the two girls, and the wagon groaned as he retook his seat. Further shuffling and a few heavy knocks over the door, and Lona ly down just overtop the the latch, close to Shiress's head.

"Aye, you're damned right I'm going to go to sleep, shyke-petcher. I done my bit, you don't need my help to drive."

The curt lurched forward. The compartment sat just over the wheels - the axle, in fact threaded through at at the two women's feet, and, if they wriggled hard enough to feel it, just above their heads. The rattling was deafening, and every cobble of the street vibrated through the box unpleasantly. The trip proceeded in silence for a minute, and suddenly Lona's voice threaded through the floorboards in a harsh, urgent whisper.

"Listen to me girl, you think I like this at all? Petch it, I'm no slaver. But you know what? That's your business, judge me if you want. I'm just trying to protect my own, like anybody else. Now, we'll be to the gate soon, you keep your mouth shut. My friend, here, wanted to knock you around a bit to shut you both up so you don't start kicking the sides to alert the gatehouse, or nothing. I told him you wouldn't, because I don't think, girl, you're stupid, and you know if you get the guards' attention, I'll be dead, and if I'm gonna be dead? You'll both be dead first, I petching swear, alright?"

The silence was heavy in the air a minute.

"Now, listen up. Your Jordan, he's just out of the city, camped along the Sunberth road, in a nice quiet spot. Petch me if I understand why he's even sending us. Petcher is crazier than a Sunberth junkie, 'sfar as I can tell. But he asked us to take you right to him, that's where we're going now. I don't have long, but… but, I'm gonna tell you what I can. Curse me all you want for not doing more, all I can do is what I can." she muttered softly, "Petch, Loma, you're a stupid bitch, you are, with your gods-be-damned soft heart."

The cart lurched to a stop. Armor clanked outside the cart. The thin din of a knight's voice sounded above and to the front.

The jar had one other effect, too: it smacked the limp body of Hadyn against the outside wall of the box. Groggily, confusedly, it returned the first bare corners of consciousness to her...

[Hadyn Skellig]

Hadyn Skellig's return to sentience was nothing short of unpleasant, the jarring of the cart jerking her body - more importantly her head - against the solid wood wall of the box. While the rest of her form lay limp, the muscles unable to respond to any instruction her brain might give them, consciousness seeped in like the ponderous percolation of rain into already waterlogged soil. A haze of consciousness ebbed and flowed, the only consistency a dull pain at the base of her skull. A headache bloomed from said location, her mind incapable of holding onto anything long enough to make sense of it . Memories were inconsistent in chronology, the recollection of returning something to someone the only absolute. Who it was and how she ended up in this predicament did not display themselves willingly. Hadyn was familiar enough with a murderous hangover that this situation wasn't entirely alien to her. But as far as she knew, she hadn't been drunk. Noises were blurred and she hadn't the wits to open her eyes yet but it probably served prudence to rely on her other (impaired) senses. She lay upon something hard and her head was being jostled about, the movement implying a consistent pace. She could not yet sense the presence of others, though objects moved against her with the rocking box. A foul taste registered as her tongue reflexively tested the fabric invading her mouth. Gagged it seemed. Curiosity tugged at her mind as her thoughts became a little more permanent. Bound in a box? Had she been drunk? No, she was on an errand. Some business about a lane near Traveler's Row. Fingers brushing something smooth in her pocket. An amicable exchange of words. How long had time passed? She could neither recall nor grasp any sense of time. The ache in her skull quelled only so the pain in other regions might assert themselves, barraging her thoughts for supremacy. The flesh on her wrists burned as though she'd been rubbing them against rope. Her knees incited a silent wince, likely bearing the brunt of her unaided fall to the ground. A slight tinge of blood leaked into her mouth, faint beneath the disgusting taste of the gag, suggested her lip was busted. Various joints and muscles registered discomfort from either strain or abuse as it became clear to Hadyn that she was in some indeterminable amount of trouble.

[Shiress]

The darkness was horrific and absorbing. The vastness of pure black that paved the path for Shiress pulled her away into it's void as she sat awaiting her captors next move, next demand. The only move the girl made was a startled jerk as she felt fingers wrap around her arms. She was being lowered, now, into a compartment of some sort, one she had not noticed before being blinded. As she settled against the wooden floor, a soft, motionless weight was placed by her side, she guessed it to be Hadyn and the guess was quickly confirmed by the touch of her hand against the woman's arm and she rested her cheek against her head. The voices from above faded back and away followed by a wooden slam and clank of metal. The girl knew then she was in place for the journey past the city gates. The stink of molded wood soaked in days old blood was overwhelming as it settled around her. The sound of groaning wood and stones slamming against the cart bottom was deafening as the cart dipped and jerked along the road. Shiress felt sick with fear and helplessness, knowing the city she had come to love was drifting away behind her as well as the short lived new life she was proud to finally have. Her heart ached as she remembered the friends she had come to know and the eyes of the one that, in silence, she loved. In some way she felt this to be deserved, for had she learned to be stronger and fight against the weakness of her past, maybe she would have escaped it completely or had she known how to love properly, maybe she would have a protector. Her body sunk against her companion. She wished nothing more for herself now but death in place of Jordan. The voice of her captor was barely heard slipping through the cracks above her head, but just audible enough for the words spoken to cause a ball of horror and panic to form in the girl's gut. Her head swayed side to side in disbelief. Her master was in Syliras. The evil she had thought awaited her in Sunberth was now only miles away. She let out a plea in the form of a muffled scream and her bound hands hit desperately against the door above her head. Any obedience to her captors was forgotten and any grasp on control lost. Her master was here. The cart screeched to a halt and Shiress became quiet and still listening in fear for the familiar evil voice. It was then she felt Hadyn begin to stir. Shifting quickly to her side, she began running her bound hands across the blacksmiths body, feeling blindly for the rope that bound the woman's hands. At last, her hands skipped across the roughness of the rope and her fingertips trailed along the surface until they rested against the knot and, with muffled sobs growing louder, her fingers frantically pulled at the loops.

[Philomena]

"Petch, petch, petch... please, please, shut up, just for a few minutes... just... oh petch..." the voice of the mercenary still held the thick veneer of anger, but udnerneath it now, was something else: frustration, guilt, and most of all, fear. Her voice, meant to intimidate, almost pleaded, begged. The voice not of a warrior, or a criminal. But a frightened slave. And then with a clatter of footsteps the woman's voice was gone. The faintest trace of it could be heard outside the cart, no longer harsh, but soft, almost purring. Giggling. The rough voice of a knight responded. The words were hard to hear inside the coffin-box, where Shiress and Hadyn lay, but there was clearly some sort of negotiation going on that had little, directly, to do with the inspection of the cart.

This was interrupted by heavy footsteps just above the two women's heads, and the shifting of the creaking springs that came when the second mercenary moved about. He tromped heavily over the two women, then stopped, the distinctive whistle of a sword being removed from a scabbard. Then, the swordmakes a scraping sound, echoed as its made by being shoved between two planks of the very box the two women are trapped inside. The sword travels down then, roughly, until the blade of it is pressed hard against Hadyn's breast.
His low grumble of a voice comes close to the planks.

"I know at least one of you little sluts can hear me, and I'm not so stupid as Loma is. You shut your petching traps, or I lean hard on this sword. Then, I'll pull it in and ram it in again on the other side."

[Hadyn Skellig]

Hadyn was entirely out of sorts, the ability to process much less make sense of her surroundings severely hindered. A vague picture of the evening was returning to her but she was still unable to comprehend how she ended up here. It took what little resolve she had to spare to not fall into hysterics. Focused solely on haggard breaths in through her nose, the woman kept her eyes shut behind the blind. The stench in the narrow confines of her prison was rank, sweat and rot assaulting her senses but she maintained a steady intake of air. It was paramount to fully regain her wits. Then, as if a light had been struck in the pitch, the memory of Shiress entered into the blacksmith's conscious. The girl's smile registered plainly in Hadyn's mind, the murkiness of pain threatening to consume her again. The woman focused carefully on steady inhalations, praying she would not slip back into the abyss. But her patience paid off in the recollection of Shiress bidding her entrance into her home. And that was when the ache bloomed anew from her skull. Where was Shiress? Again the reflex to panic nearly overtook her, the muscles in her jaw clenching as she felt the sheer helplessness of being bound. It took five more measured breaths of fetid air to calm her once more. It was imperative that she remain rational and aware of that which surrounded her. There was a flat surface pressed to her face and one shoulder. Her vestibular awareness was vague at best, but thru slight controlled movements of muscles Hadyn could roughly assume where each limb lay. She was preparing to further explore her surroundings with the softness of skin touched her raw arm, fingers pulling at the ropes that restrained her hands. Shiress? Hadyn wanted nothing more than to turn her head, blind and mute as she was, to alert her friend that she was conscious but prudence told her to remain still. There was still so much that the brunette was unable to ascertain. Play dumb until more information was given. But when a finger passed across her palm, Hadyn couldn't resist a reflexive pulse of her hand into a weak fist, hoping the girl would understand. But such hope was cut short when the sounds of heavy boots echoed in her head, coming from above them. They were underground? No, they'd been moving. In a compartment? Her understanding was quickly crystallized as a sharp pain flourished against Hadyn's breast, the point of a weapon digging definitively enough to draw blood. Hadyn couldn't make out more than a few choice words of the man above, among them sluts, stupid, Loma, sword and again. The wetness against the fabric of her clothes caused her to shut her eyes even tighter to avoid making noise, the sting of steel cutting into her skin threatening her resolve. She bit the sordid cloth between her teeth as she willed herself to remain calm. It wasn't so much the pain of the weapon but the utter inability to see or speak, despondence in the unknown weighing heavily upon her like the sword at her breast. Silently her hands strained against the ropes her companion had been painstakingly trying to undo. They were shoddily tied but still managed to keep the woman's hands bound. C'mon, lass, Hadyn pleaded silently, her finger flexing and extending against the ropes. You almost have them undone.

[Shiress]

Shiress was relieved to feel Hadyn's hands working with her own to free the rope. Together, tireless fingers pulled and tugged at the rope until finally, the girl could feel Hadyn's arms moving about freely, pulling away the remainder of the rope from her wrists. Shiress lifted her bound hands and traveled up the woman's body in search of the gag and blindfold. It was then the wooden cart screeched and groaned beneath heavy weight above them. Metal slid hard against wood then a male voice growled a warning. The girl sank into an abyss of fear as her hand traveled across the unmistakable sharp edge of a sword, her body stiffened as she heard the man's words. She had to warn Hadyn of the impending danger she was in. Her concern was not with herself, but with the woman that lay beside her. The girl had lived through the evil torture of Elijah Jordan once, she couldn't think of her friend doing the same. The blade retreated and the girls arms struggled to lift further, but failed against the tight ropes that bound her wrist to her feet. She couldn't reach the woman's gag or her own. She was consumed with hopeless fear. Her heart sunk and her forehead pressed gently against the side of her friends head with soft, muffled cries escaping through the clothed tied tightly around her mouth. She didn't know what to do or even how to feel. She was numb with the dread of seeing the face of her master. If only she would wake up, wake up to find herself lying comfortably safe in her bed. She wanted this to be a nightmare, one she could escape, one Hadyn could escape.

[Philomena]

The sword retracted, but the glitter of it was still visible through the locked trapdoor. The man grumbled, and tutted the wait was long, and quiet, but the man listened the entire time. Hearing the shuffle of movement he kicked hard on the door.

"Don't you move, or I open the door and crack your skulls, you sluts."

After about 25 minutes, a second set of stumbling footsteps came back onto the cart-bed.

"Get on the driver's box," the female mercanary's voice was husky and angry. The man moved. The cart began running again. The cart began to roll along, the light growing dimmer with the dappling of tree leaves. A clank and groan marked the opening of the trapdoor. Loma stood there, her trousers ripped near the fly, now, and her face in a flush. She looked down with a look that was almost nauseous. Staring dully at the two girls, ready enough, though, to jump the door back shut if they moved. She reached saw the untied knots, the partly cut rope and gave an almost hurt look of pain, quickly melting into irritation. She said nothing though, simply holding Shiress down with her foot, while she bent and retied the other woman. Seh tightened the gag on both women, and muttered softly.

"You petching bitches... I tried to help, you don't understand that? And you would have had me killed."

The words were not angry, just tired. She adjusted the torn waistband, flashing a mess of scratched skin on her belly, glossy with a sticky, half-dried mess of fluids, then drew the trapdoor back shut. The cart drove on, for a long time. The smell of smoke approached. Cooking smoke.

A camp was nearby.

[Hadyn Skellig]

Words issued heavily into the darkness, Hadyn's impaired senses confusing the matter further. Her inability to comprehend time made it exceptionally difficult to determine how long it took before the dank prison began to move again. It lurched forward unexpectedly, her body powerless to react, shoving her head against thick wooden wall. The woman slipped hazily into the unconscious, the starting up of the cart jostling her fragile mind enough to push her into the abyss once more. She passed in and out of sentience, the monotony of the vehicle pressing on unable to hold her consciousness longer than a few ticks at a time. Hadyn chose not to fight it. Breathing slowly and deliberately in the fetid air she preserved her gradually increasing strength, willing her mind to quiet against panic and pain. It'd do her no good now. Wait till they got where they were meant before trying at escape. Upon her fourth or fifth return to awareness, the faint scent of smoke lingered in her nostrils, pulling her from the fetters of catatonia. It became more apparent as the cart moved, invading the stench of rot and heralding a change in location. Blinking against the blind Hadyn took stock of her muscles, flexing and extending her limbs ever so slightly. They were horribly sore and cramped from lying in the box, but she continued with grim determination to wake each extremity and conserve her strength until she could use it. She could taste the dried blood from her lips, tongue passing across teeth and the cloth. Her mouth was dry, saliva reluctant to lubricate lest the bag soak it up. With a lengthy exhalation through her nose, the blacksmith encouraged her body to relax once more. Her ankles and wrists burned against the rope and her head was still throbbing but at least she could lie patiently until their captors came for them. Her mind was now beginning to maintain consciousness; thoughts and plans firing in her brain as she took another breath. The aroma of smoke - a campfire - kept her in the present, suggesting this place was the destination. Hadyn readied herself inwardly, keeping calm until she could react appropriately.

[Shiress]

Shiress pressed her eyelids together tightly hearing the door above her being pulled open. Tensing her body, she moaned under the weight that pressed hard against her, she eased slightly to hear the familiar female voice, despite what the woman said, it wasn't her master, not yet. The door slammed shut and within a chime, the cart jerked and lurched then settled into an onward motion. The girl's hands pulled against the ropes and lifted to Hadyn's arm, confirming with her fingertips that the rope around the woman's wrist was again tight. Feeling her hope defeated, her hands fell away and she became still. Shiress stirred and lifted her head slightly, her senses aroused by the smell of smoke. A campfire's smoke. The word's of her captor repeated through her head like the final judgement of an executioner. Your Jordan, he's just out of the city, camped along the Sunberth road. The fear that she felt was relentless. She could hear it, taste it and now she could smell fear, it gnawed away at her, eating a hole in the pit of her stomach and the center of her chest. Any hope stirring within her withered and her heart sunk. Shiress surrendered and her body became heavy and limp against the hard floor of her enclosure.

[Philomena]

The cart pulled to a halt, and did not move. The smell of wood and cooking meat was strong now, clearly nearby. The female mercenary's lighter tread was audible walking away from the cart. And then? Silence. Nothing. Once in a while the body would creak as the other mercenary shifted his weight on the box.

It was about twenty minutes later that the muttering of voices was heard, and the clank of the lock being moved about, unlocked. The door was pulled open, then, and a hand reached, tearing the blindfolds none too gently from the two women. Four figures were visible in the dusky light. The trees above them left them in shadows, but adjusted eyes could pick them out quickly. One was the great heap of a fellow who had been driving them. One was a dark aspected man, with a bow on his shoulder, and a heavy cudgel in his hand. One was a willow-thin, hard bitten woman, holding the heft of an axe. The last, was Elijah.

To say that is to give the image Shiress would have remembered from not so long before. This would be inaccurate, for Elijah had clearly gone through much in the intervening time. His face was wasted and thin, and covered in a scree of white-headed pustules, some oozing slightly, his lips were fleshier, and his broad, ugly nose was red with wine, reflected, too in the jaundice of his eyes. His hair had the lank greasiness of a man who should bathe more often than he does.

His voice was the same though, perhaps with a wild, leering edge to it.

"Well, well. It's true. Two little bitches, all cozied up together, don't you look sweet in your little nest?"

He made a show of the next part, looking hard and cruel at Shiress, as he rolled a heavy throat clearing aronud his mouth, balled up the results, and spit a phleghmy ball of saliva and half-chewed remnants of a recently eaten rabbit onto Shiress's face.

"Well my girl. Its good to see you back home where you belong."